


ssau snapshots

by geralehane



Series: gera's step-sister au [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, SSAU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: little (or not so little) one-shot peeks into clexa's life after "i'd give up forever to touch you". this is basically smut with feels.





	1. first college visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clarke visits lexa in college for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the first chapter is the one you guys have probably read as it was the last, additional one in "i'd give up forever to touch you." it's been bothering me that it was kind of ruining the whole feel i was going for with the original fic, so i took it from there and made a separate collection of prompts. ssau is now officially a series!)

College isn't as terrifying of an experience as Lexa expected. There are no problems with getting her settled in, the administration is helpful, and her roommate is a nice friendly girl from Michigan who spends her weekends at her boyfriend's apartment in the city.

 

Had her father never married Abigail Griffin, she would have been on cloud nine right now. Free of that town and the empty house with cold white walls, with her whole future ahead of her. But then, she wouldn't have been thrown together with Clarke. They wouldn't have shared a house and car rides and cut up fruit and each other.

 

They wouldn't have fallen in love.

 

But they have, and it's almost as perfect as it gets. The only downside is them being separated for a whole year. And, yes, it's only a four-hour drive from Polis University to the Woods residence, and they already made plans to spend next weekend together, but it's been two weeks without Clarke, and Lexa's never been more unsettled.

 

And Clarke, her intuitive, perceptive Clarke, notices.

 

“I could totally talk your father into getting me in this fancy Polis High,” she tells Lexa on the phone. Her voice is a little breathy on the other end of the line. She must be walking somewhere, most likely to Raven's house.

 

Lexa sighs, leaning back in her chair. Clarke called her about ten minutes ago and quickly noticed her bad mood, and she has been trying to cheer her up ever since. And Lexa appreciates it, really. But all the options Clarke's came up with so far are completely unrealistic.

 

“Your mother would have an aneurysm,” she replies. Her textbook lies open on the table in front of her, and she shuts it with another sigh. “It's okay, Clarke. We have a plan. Let's talk about something else.”

 

Clarke mutters something, but Lexa doesn't catch it. It sounds like she's talking to someone. Perhaps she met someone from school on her way. “Clarke?”

 

“Here. Sorry.” She can hear Clarke's smile when she speaks. “You know, we don't have to talk at all.”

 

Lexa blinks. It doesn't sound like Clarke's upset, but her words tell another story. Has she done something to offend her? “I don't-”

 

The knock on her door interrupts her mid-sentence, and she blinks again. She doesn't have any friends here yet. No one really comes by, neither for her nor for her roommate.

 

There's another knock, more impatient. Lexa sighs. But she can't fight off the slow, surprised smile.

 

“Clarke,” she says. “What did you do?”

 

“What? Nothing!” her step sister exclaims. It doesn't last long, and Lexa hears her sigh. “How did you know?”

 

“I can hear you knock through the phone,” Lexa deadpans.

 

“Damn it. Well, open the door.”

 

She chuckles and pressed end on her call, standing up and quickly making her way to the door. When she throws it open, her smile grows wider.

 

“Clarke.”

 

Her step sister grins in response, cocking her head to the side like a naughty puppy. The 'naughty' part is mostly to blame on a trench coat the girl is sporting. Lexa's not sure if she's wearing anything underneath – the coat is tied around her waist, and nothing is visible but her toned legs in heels. She thinks back to Clarke's robe at home. Does she still wear it around the house now that Lexa isn't there anymore?

 

“Room service,” Clarke breathes out, placing her hand on Lexa's chest and pushing her back into the room. The door closes behind them with a soft click, and Clarke's confident in her strut as she walks Lexa back to her chair.

 

Lexa smirks. “I am not in a hotel.” She thinks of adding something else, but Clarke doesn't let her. She pushes her, and Lexa lands on a chair with a surprised huff.

 

“Clarke,” she chuckles. “I just came back from the gym. Let me shower first.”

 

She's entirely unsurprised when her girlfriend shakes her head no. “Don't,” Clarke says. She's standing in front of Lexa, her coat still tied, and her eyes are positively hungry. “You're delicious.” Her words stir uneasiness deep in Lexa's stomach. It's a pleasant ache. Clarke makes her blood boil in the most perfect of ways.

 

When Clarke straddles her, she's already throbbing all over. Her hands instinctively come up to rest on Clarke's sides, and they still for a moment. Watching. Breathing.

 

It's a very new experience still – missing a person. Lexa wonders, sometimes, if Clarke feels the same things she does. Probably not. Clarke experiences everything far more vividly. For her, it's a quiet longing. She goes through her daily routines and Clarke is there with her, in the back of her mind. She's there when she goes to bed and she's there when she wakes up. Lexa carries a piece of Clarke everywhere she goes. And it's weird – being content with knowing that Clarke is thinking about her, too, miles away, and yet yearning for her. She doesn't quite know what to make of it.

 

But this, right here – it's throwing her off even more, in a new, exciting way. Because she's never held a person in her arms and simultaneously missed them like crazy. Until Clarke.

 

Clarke, who's warm and who smells like the crispy autumn air outside, and, as usual, with a hint of something uniquely her underneath. Lexa takes deep breaths, trying to savor the scent.

_Home._

 

“Hi,” the girl whispers. Lexa watches her lips form the word before Clarke bites the lower one. She doesn't look coy. She looks tense with anticipation, almost trembling. Lexa thinks that if she were to set Clarke's panties aside and dip her fingers into her, she'd find her dripping with impatience. But she doesn't. Clarke is the one who needs to be in control right now, Lexa realizes with sudden clarity. It's not that her girlfriend is afraid of being vulnerable with her. It's that being vulnerable doesn't come easy to Clarke, period. And driving here, surprising her, wordlessly admitting she missed Lexa so much she had to see her – it's Clarke being cut open before her, raw and exposed. She's nervous. She's often nervous with Lexa, and while Lexa doesn't quite get it, she wants to help her through it.

 

She's okay with being led.

 

“Hey,” she replies, and slightly tilts her head up, inviting Clarke's lips. Clarke hesitates only a second before capturing them, and it's fireworks and butterflies in the pit of her stomach when they finally meet in a soft, barely-there kiss. Clarke exhales a shaky sigh into her lips, and she parts them. Her girlfriend doesn't wait too long before gently caressing the roof of her mouth with her tongue. Lexa can't help it – she lets out a small moan. It's been a while since she's felt anything like this. A little over two weeks, in fact.

 

The sound is more than enough for the atmosphere to shift, and Lexa understands that when Clarke lets out a moan in response, louder and so, so wanting, and starts to grind into her. Lexa's hands travel to her hips of their own accord, and she squeezes, reveling in sounds that fall from Clarke's mouth at the sensation.

 

She really hates to do this, but they are in a dormitory with really thin walls, and technically, Clarke isn't supposed to be here. She makes a mental note to ask Clarke about that later, as well. “Baby,” she smiles when Clarke releases a dreamy sigh at the name. “You know what I'm about to say.”

 

Clarke huffs. “Be quiet,” she grumbles. “Yeah, I know. Why didn't you get an apartment, again?”

 

“It's mandatory for freshmen to live in the dorms,” the answer slides from her tongue, ready and not truthful at all. Both of them know it. It's certainly one of the reasons, of course, but Lexa is planning to stay in the dorms until the end of her studies.

 

The real reason she's doing it is because of her father. Ever since Abby found out about them, Lexa's been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For either Abby or them to slip up. And when they do – and Lexa doesn't doubt it for a second – her father will know and react. And that's why she doesn't want to depend on his money more than she has to. She's got a college fund in her name that she's not using now because of her fencing scholarship in Polis University. She's planning on using it for Harvard Law later on, when she graduates from college. If her father finds out and disowns her by then, she's not really losing much.

 

And if he finds out during her time in college, she'll already be equipped with a living-in-the-dorms, sharing-close-quarters-with-another-person experience, and she won't go through shock of having to adapt to it after having an apartment to herself. An apartment that he would have been paying for.

 

Besides, dormitory is included in the scholarship. She's saving more money this way. And her roommate is really nice.

 

And Clarke knows all of this. “I know,” her girlfriend says. Her eyes soften and shine with quiet pride, and Lexa feels full. “But next time I'm taking you to a hotel. Or a cabin in the woods.” She leans in and presses her lips to Lexa's, quickly, before nipping at her jawline. “I really miss being loud,” she whispers into her skin, and Lexa shivers.

 

Fuck. “I...” she almost loses her train of thought when Clarke suddenly takes a long lick at her neck, ending it with sucking her skin just under her jaw. “...I... God... I really miss you being loud, too. God, Clarke.” By this time, Clarke's lips have mapped out all of her neck, and are nearing her chest. Clarke practically purrs as she licks at her collarbones, complementing it with tracing them with her fingers, and Lexa feels hot and ready to burst already.

 

Which is why, when Clarke slides off her lap without warning and stands up, Lexa releases the most pitiful moan, her arms reaching after her. She doesn't even have it in her to be embarrassed. She just wants Clarke back in her arms, warm and here and  _hers._

 

Luckily, Clarke finds it cute, and Lexa is awarded with a smiling kiss before Clarke takes a step back again. Lexa's ready to protest by that point. But Clarke's eyes are dark and her lashes are heavy as she gently guides Lexa's hands to chair handles, and Lexa complies.

 

When Clarke finally unties her coat, slow and calculated, she has to grip those handles in order to stay put. Because the only thing Clarke has on is the matching crimson set she wore when Lexa walked in on her a year ago. She always forgets Clarke's affinity for sentimental. Right now, she's grateful for it. She remembers how drawn she was to Clarke right from the start. Remembers how she tried to block out those thoughts as she drove to the supermarket. Remembers Clarke's hungry eyes and lazy smile and their first kiss.

 

“I wanted you so much, you know,” Clarke says. Her voice, husky, smoky, makes Lexa swallow, hard. “You drove me crazy. You still drive me crazy.”

 

Lexa swallows again. “Likewise.” that earns her another chuckle, and she smiles, just barely.

 

“Good to know.” Clarke's finger is on her chest, and she trails it down her body as she bends, and then-

 

She leans back, her eyes wide as she watches Clarke slowly kneel in front of her. The sight before her – Clarke on her knees, lip bitten and eyes wild – sends an electric jolt to her core. Her girlfriend is and will always be the most erotic experience she's ever had.

 

It's practically divine.

 

Clarke maintains eye contact with her as her nimble fingers work her jeans button. Lexa's throat is dry and she has trouble swallowing as she watches her. Soon, her jeans are undone, and Clarke slowly drags her zipper down. Lexa lifts her hips slightly, but Clarke shakes her head, smirking.

 

“Eager, are we?” Another chuckle. Then, Clarke leans in, and Lexa spreads her legs instinctively, accommodating her. The girl rests her cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her, eyes dark and hooded. “Don't make me punish you.”

 

Lexa feels herself clench so suddenly and so hard that she has to shut her eyes, whimpering and breathing hard. Clarke's smile is palpable in her raspy voice. “Good girl.” And, before Lexa has a chance to compose herself and open her eyes, she feels hot air on her skin, causing goose bumps. Her abs jump before she hears Clarke's awed gasp.

 

“Do that again,” Clarke husks.

 

Lexa has trouble finding her voice. When she does, it's scratchy and deep. “Do what?” she asks, finally opening her eyes and locking them with Clarke's.

 

“This.” Clarke's hands caress her toned stomach, counting each ab. They tense and relax under her touch, and blue eyes are alight with wonder. “When you twitch them. Do that again.”

 

Lexa would smirk if she weren't too busy losing her breath. “I don't exactly control it.” and she doesn't. Her body simply reacts to everything Clarke. Right now, for example, she's aching all over as Clarke's fingers trace the v of her lower stomach.

 

If anything, Clarke's the one who controls it.

 

The blonde purrs. “Well. Then I'll make you.” and she does. Lexa barely stops herself from releasing an obscenely loud moan when Clarke's tongue teases at her skin. It's hot and wet on her stomach. Clarke switches from light sucking to small licks and nips, and it's – it's as good as the sex itself, she swears. Having Clarke kneel in front of her, about to strip her jeans away and make her forget her own name, as cheesy as that sounds. Forget any word of any language until only one remains.

 

Clarke.

 

“Fuck,” Lexa moans. “Clarke, please...”

 

“Please what?”

 

Clarke's taunting her, and Lexa's all too eager to give her anything she wants. “I need you,” she whispers, smiling when Clarke appreciatively moans at that. “I need your mouth on me. In me.” she's not making a lot of sense right now, probably, but she's past the point of caring. “Just... Clarke, please...”

 

As always, Clarke doesn't disappoint.

 

Lexa misses the exact moment where her jeans are flung across the room, but she doesn't miss Clarke's mouth back on her, raining kisses down her inner thighs. She's watching with rapt attention as Clarke's skillful tongue draws invisible circles on her thighs and stomach. It's incredible, but not enough, and she shifts, trying to let Clarke know that. She's sure her girlfriend is aware, though. And, by some miracle, she decides to take pity on her.

 

The sight of Clarke smirking at her makes her clench in anticipation. Then, the girl traces her wonderful tongue down her stomach, swiping at her bellybutton, and she doesn't stop until she reaches the place where Lexa wants her the most.

 

The first swipe isn't tentative or gentle. Clarke gives her cunt a sloppy, dirty, delicious kiss, moaning at the taste, and Lexa can't hold back her breathy curses and grunts.

 

“Shit,” she husks. “Fuck, Clarke... So good...”

 

Soon, Lexa can't even form words. Only occasional whimpers and moans. Clarke's moaning, too. She sounds like she can't get enough of her. The wet, slurping sounds are probably so loud her neighbors can hear, but right now, Lexa absolutely doesn't care. All she cares about is the feel of Clarke on her cunt, sucking with determination.

 

Clarke's always been talented with her mouth, and today is no exception. She builds Lexa up skillfully, playing her like a finely tuned instrument, reading her little signs. To Lexa, it seems as if no more than a minute passes before she's ready to tumble over the edge. When Clarke starts to lick at her clit, having had enough of teasing and tasting aimlessly, she barely stops herself from actually howling. It feels overwhelming and dirty and so, so good. Clarke's taking long, determined strokes, never once missing the right spot, and it's no wonder Lexa's so embarrassingly close.

 

“Clarke, I'm...” each word is so hard, but she can't keep it in. “Fuck, gonna come, baby, I'm-”

 

Clarke clearly has other ideas.

 

Right as Lexa's about to break, Clarke is gone. All Lexa feels is room air hitting her cunt and Clarke's hands caressing her hips and stomach. Her eyes fly open, and she stares down at a smirking Clarke, more shocked than pissed off.

 

“...Why?” That's the only thought she can formulate. Clarke grins.

 

“God, you're too cute.” Her girlfriend presses a kiss to her pelvis, and her abs twitch again. Clarke laughs. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

 

“Yes,” falls off her tongue even before she fully understands the question through the haze of her almost-orgasm. Clarke's eyes soften again, just barely, at the speed of her response.

 

“Okay.”

 

This time, when Clarke licks into her, it's tender. Lexa almost whimpers in frustration before she catches herself. Clarke asked her to trust her, and she does.

 

Clarke's licks are long and slow. She switches between those and shallow flicks at her clit, and, while it isn't quite enough to drive Lexa over the edge, it's enough to keep her there. It's like her whole body is on fire. It prickles at her skin, hot and pleasant. Her hands are still gripping the chair handles, and her legs are spread and thrown over Clarke's shoulders as she takes care of her. And that's exactly what it feels like. Clarke taking gentle care of her. Cleaning her up and drinking her in.

 

This time, it feels noticeably longer. Lexa alternates between watching Clarke and throwing her head back when Clarke hits just the right spot – she never stays on it, though. She's exploring Lexa meticulously and carefully, and Lexa feels herself dripping down her chin because of her ministrations. It's like she's floating. Drifting. Her pleasure comes in waves, ebbing and flowing, carrying her. She gives herself over, completely, and soon, the peaks are bigger and more powerful. It's almost – she's almost-

 

“Clarke...”

 

When Clarke tears her mouth away for second time, Lexa's close to feeling utterly betrayed. Her cunt clenches around nothing, and her clit throbs almost painfully. She was so close. So fucking close this time.

 

Clarke drops a placating kiss on her inner thigh, wet with her juices. “Shh,” she chuckles when Lexa glares at her. “I'm here.” Her next words are almost enough to make Lexa lose it. “I want you to...” her gaze is uncharacteristically shy. “Use me,” she finishes. “My mouth. Be rough.”

 

Lexa blinks. “I...” she doesn't really have any other words.

 

Clarke smiles. “Here,” she takes Lexa's hands off chair handles and gently guides them to her head. Lexa rests one on her cheek, and Clarke leans into it, dropping another kiss on her palm. “Take what you need,” she whispers to Lexa, and it clicks.

 

Lexa nods, and she hopes the love in her eyes is prominent enough for Clarke to catch it. Judging by Clarke's smile, soft and small, she does.

 

Then, Lexa places her feet firmly on the floor and guides Clarke's head back between her legs. Blue eyes are open and eager.

 

“Lick,” Lexa instructs, and Clarke complies.

 

Yet again, it's different. Clarke is lapping at her cunt, staring her in the eye as she does so, and the rush of having Clarke ready to please her is overwhelming. Once again, she finds herself yearning to claim her all over. It'll come, she thinks. After this, she'll take Clarke to her bed and spend the night discovering her all over again.

 

But right now, Clarke's mouth is keen and Lexa's desperate to come. Being edged gave her pleasure an almost painful tint, but it's even better. More vivid. More primal.

 

She growls and feels Clarke shiver against her. “Inside,” she says. Clarke doesn't make her wait before closing her eyes and slipping her tongue in her, as deep as she can, and Lexa groans at the feeling of being finally filled.

 

“Good girl,” she growls and starts to thrust against Clarke's tongue, fast and hard. Clarke's moaning constantly into her now, and when Lexa tugs on her hair a little too hard, those moans become muffled screams. Lexa gives her a once-over as she thrusts, her own pleasure hazy and tinted with red. She's surprised she's able to keep her eyes open. Everything's bright and hot, but somehow still not fucking enough, and-

 

Blue eyes fly open and lock with hers, and that's when Lexa explodes.

 

“Fuck!” Clarke's watching her, and it adds to the overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck, Clarke, I'm coming,” she groans. When she sees Clarke's throat bob as she swallows her gushing wetness, she pulses again. “God, yes. Take it all. Such a good girl...”

 

Clarke's responding moan reverberates through her cunt while she's still coming, and her legs start to shake at the intensity of the feeling. Then, Clarke's persistent tongue goes back to her clit and presses against it as two of her fingers curl inside her, stroking her spot, and Lexa only remembers a loud “Clarke!” and flashes of white and red. When she comes to it, Clarke's gently kissing her thighs and her stomach.

 

“Hey,” she whispers. “I thought I broke you.”

 

“You might as well have.” Lexa tries to sit up straight and fails miserably. “Was I out long?”

 

Clarke smirks. “Do you want me to boost my self-esteem or do you want me to tell you the truth.”

 

It's Lexa's turn to chuckle. This time, when she attempts to sit up, she succeeds. “The truth will boost your self-esteem.”

 

“Smooth talker.”

 

“That I am.”

 

She stands up with some help from Clarke and winces as she does so. She's a bit sore, and her muscles are still recovering. “A couple of seconds,” Clarke tells her. “Not long.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Clarke tastes like her. Lexa revels in it. She gathers her in her arms as she swallows her sighs and quiet moans, giving her long, grateful kisses.

 

“Hi,” her girlfriend whispers when they part.

 

“Hey.” Lexa smirks. “Welcome to Polis U. Was the trip to your liking?”

 

Clarke's laughter is quiet and full. “I liked it so much I might extend my stay next year.” There is a promise in her words. Something solid and final. Lexa lets it wash over her before she gives Clarke a slow, happy smile.

 

“Looking forward to it.” They meet halfway, gently brushing noses and resting their foreheads against each other. “Also, love you.”

 

Clarke's soft and smiling in her arms. “I love you, too.”


	2. halloween special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa invites clarke to her first college halloween party. it goes very, very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the first chapter is the one you guys have probably read as it was the last, additional one in "i'd give up forever to touch you." it's been bothering me that it was kind of ruining the whole feel i was going for with the original fic, so i took it from there and made a separate collection of prompts. ssau is now officially a series!)
> 
> check out [my website](http://geralehane.com/) for more of my works!
> 
> and follow me on:   
> [tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com/)   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/thegeralehane)  
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> 
> enjoy your read!

 

 

 

“Chill out,” Raven says, blowing a giant bubble gum. “You could go as a sexy potato and Lexa would still want you. Now that I think about it, sexy isn’t even required. You could go as a regular potato and Lexa would still jump you. Y’all animals. It’s disgusting, really.”

Clarke has chosen to ignore her jabs for the entirety of the night, and she sticks with it. “I just want her to enjoy her first Halloween in college.”

“You sound like her mother. Which is hilarious, considering you two are sisters.”

Clearly, Raven is not done trying to get Clarke to strangle her. “Step-sisters,” she snaps, turning from her full-body mirror to glare at her friend. “And get your boots off my bed. They are dirty.”

“I bet this bed has seen some nasty ass-”

“Raven.” She sighs, turning back to critically survey her outfit. “I don’t think she’ll like it. I don’t think _I_ like it.”

“That’s bullshit.” Raven rolls her eyes and stands to join her in front of the mirror, green hat almost falling off before she catches it. “You wanted to go as Red Riding Hood since, like, forever.” She shrugs. “Well. Since you saw that movie, anyway.”

“It has a great soundtrack.”

“Whatever. My point is,” she puts the red hood on Clarke’s head and grabs her shoulders, steadying her so the two of them can look her over in the mirror, “this is the costume _you_ want. Lexa will have to either like it or deal with it. And knowing Lexa, she’ll like anything that makes you happy. You two are gross, okay?”

Clarke shrugs her hands off, but there’s a small smile forming on her lips. She’s right. “Fine. Okay.” She looks at herself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” Raven fixes her mustache and readjusts the hat again. “Don’t tell Lexa I said that.”

//

Thing is, Lexa doesn’t like Halloween. That’s what has Clarke so worried. Halloween is all about loud partying and drinking and large crowds and jump scares and being someone you’re not – things Lexa’s not even remotely into. “You know, fun things. Or fun in general,” Octavia would say if they were still friends. Clarke would disagree. There are things more fun than all of this.

Naked fun, sure. But there is also binge-watching new shows all cuddled up on the couch and laughing at Lexa trying to imitate characters when she reads out loud and cooking weird meals with weird names and kissing hot chocolate off each other’s lips.

So, no. Lexa is definitely into fun things. Just not all of them.

But Clarke – Clarke _loves_ Halloween, precisely because of everything listed above. It’s her favorite holiday, and Lexa knows it. That’s why Clarke really wants her to have fun tonight. There is no doubt in her mind Lexa will try her hardest to accommodate her, and she’s grateful and she loves her for it and a million other things, but she doesn’t want her entertainment to be at the expense of Lexa’s comfort.

She did offer they stay indoors this Halloween. Watch _Hocus Pocus_ and make cider and cuddle. Lexa wouldn’t have any of it.

“You like Halloween more than Christmas, Clarke,” she said. “And I know how much you love Christmas.” Her tone let Clarke know she was serious and determined to make sure Clarke had a good time. Which, inevitably, meant sacrificing her own.

That’s why Clarke’s been stressing over her costume the whole week. If Lexa wouldn’t enjoy the night, she’ll make damn sure she enjoys _her_.

With that in mind, she releases a shaky breath, smoothes a hand down her pale blue dress underneath the red cloak, and knocks on 

Lexa’s door.

“Trick or treat,” she says in her most innocent voice when Lexa asks who it is. Unfortunately – or very, very fortunately – her innocent voice is also her sultriest. Oh well.

“One day I will figure out how you get in,” Lexa chuckles when she opens the door, and Clarke just about dies.

She looks – this is unfair. “I really hope it’s not you, Grandma, because the things I wanna do to you are nothing short of unholy.”

Lexa laughs and steps out of her room, slowly circling her arms around Clarke’s waist and leaning in to give her a soft kiss. Their lips meet, and Clarke feels Lexa’s gentle chuckling at her relieved, happy sigh. “Miss me?” she asks quietly, resting her forehead against hers.

“What do you think?” she whispers back. Her basket falls to the floor with a soft thud, and neither of them pay any attention to it. “You smell so good.”

“You too.” Lexa nuzzles her neck after saying that, and she sighs again, this time with quickened breath, hyperaware of tingly pressure building at the base of her spine. She hasn’t seen Lexa for several weeks, and it’s been the worst kind of torture. “You look incredible, too.” The compliment is uttered in a low, deep voice – Clarke feels it rumbling in Lexa’s chest she’s pressed against, feels it reverberate through her own, travel down to her stomach and coil there, tight and aching and pleasant.

_God_.

“Thanks,” she breathes, leaning up – the platform of Lexa’s Dr Martens give her even more of a height advantage over Clarke with her red ballet flats – and capturing her lower lip between her own, gently sucking on it before before swiping her tongue across it, silently asking for permission. Lexa gives it immediately, opening her mouth and letting Clarke in, and – Halloween is an overrated holiday anyway.

Lexa doesn’t agree, though. She resists against Clarke’s attempt to push her back into the room, tearing her mouth away and grinning. “Clarke.” A smile in her eyes and a thumb on Clarke’s cheek – so openly affectionate and warm. They’ve really come a long way, haven’t they? “We’ll miss the party. Dany was really looking forward to seeing you there.”

Clarke cringes at the mention of Lexa’s roommate. “I’m pretty sure she saw plenty of me the first time.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“You know I always forget to close the door!”

“Oh, so we’re still blaming me. Got it.” Lexa’s smile is small and amused.

“Damn right you got it,” Clarke mumbles. Trails her hand down Lexa’s chest, feeling leather under her palm, black and rugged. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway? A really hot biker chick? Cause I gotta say, it’s really working for me.”

Lexa shrugs her shoulders, and Clarke’s hands immediately venture to them, caressing and squeezing. “Raven suggested it. I think I know why, now.” Her eyes travel over Clarke’s red cloak and her flowing dress. “I believe I’m the Big Bad Wolf to your Red Riding Hood. Which is really unfortunate if we go by the original story.”

“Come on,” Clarke laughs, tangling her fingers in Lexa’s wild mane. “You know you want to eat me, Mister Wolf.”

Lexa’s disapproving glare is weakened by her amused grin. “I know for a fact the feeling is mutual, Little Red,” she tries to growl. “Oh! Raven also sent me a package – I’m going to be really surprised if it’s not what I think it is.” When Clarke gives her a curious glance, she rolls her eyes. “Not _that_ , Clarke. I think it’s a tail. Or ears.”

Lexa squeezes Clarke’s hand once and quickly darts back inside her room, and there’s some rustling before she laughs. “More than called it,” she says, coming back, and Clarke laughs, too. “It’s both. Help me put this on?”

“Sure.” Clarke ties the tail around Lexa’s hips, black string invisible on leather pants, while Lexa puts the wolf ears on her head. She has to glance down when she’s working on the knot, and that’s when her eyes automatically fall to Lexa’s crotch, and - oh. She hasn’t noticed it before, too busy simply feeling Lexa in her arms, and, sure, she felt something when they were hugging but she thought it was her phone, not…

Oh.

“Looks like you already have a tail, Mister Wolf,” she says, her fingers lightly running over the barely-there bulge between Lexa’s legs. She did a fine job trying to hide it – another reason she hasn’t spotted it right away. “You sure you need another one?”

“So you noticed, huh,” Lexa smirks. Her hand takes Clarke’s, and she gently presses it harder against the strap-on she’s wearing. “I was wondering why you haven’t said anything,” she comments quietly, looking Clarke in the eyes. Clarke’s reply is a quick, dirty kiss and the squeeze of her hand. She revels in the needy moan that falls from Lexa’s mouth at the gesture; swallows it greedily and paws at her harder while trying to remain within the boundaries that come with being in public.

It’s hard, pardon her little pun.

“Last chance,” she pants when they separate. Lexa’s eyes are wonderfully dark; almost black because of her pupils, blown wide. “This is your last chance to drag me into your room and fuck me all night long.”

“Trust me,” Lexa replies, her breathing slightly ragged – Clarke loves it when she gets like this. Loves being the reason for cracks in her stoic façade. “Trust me, I’ll get another.”

“Cocky.”

“There is this thing I wanna try,” Lexa says after she’s done rolling her eyes at Clarke’s awful pun. “I think you’ll like it. We just need to get to that party.”

“Sexual thing?” Clarke clarifies.

Lexa shakes her head, exasperated. “Come on. We’ll be late.” She hates being late, and Clarke knows it. That’s pretty much the only reason she came on time. She’s pretty sure the party hasn’t even started yet. Everyone’s always late. But it’s no use arguing with Lexa about it – not that Clarke even wants to argue.

Being early just means more time with Lexa, and that’s the last thing she’s gonna complain about.

“Okay.” she steps away from Lexa, regretfully taking her hand off the toy hidden under the leather of her pants and grasping onto Lexa’s courteously extended elbow instead. “Let’s go.”

They leave after Lexa’s done closing the door and giving Clarke another soft kiss. “For luck,” she whispers, smiling her barely-there smile that has Clarke weak at knees.

“You’ll be getting plenty of it, baby.”

//

“Clarke!” Lexa’s roommate waves at them as soon as they walk in - just like Clarke’s predicted, there’s not many people around. “You made it!”

“Ah,” there is another girl with Dany, impassively observing as she gives Clarke a quick hug. “Clarke. It’s nice to put a name to the screams.”

Lexa makes a small choking noise next to Clarke while Dany turns to the girl, eyes wide. “Gina!”

Gina blinks. “Dany.”

“We will be in the kitchen,” Lexa interjects, gently tugging on Clarke’s hand and turning to the left. Clarke’s really grateful for that. She’s not exactly embarrassed - certainly not ashamed - but the encounter did leave her feeling just a tad uncomfortable. Mostly for Lexa, she realizes.

“Okay. Love your costumes, by the way!” Dany calls after them, and Clarke turns to shoot her a thankful smile.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa says when they reach a large table full of drinks and snacks. “Gina lives next door. She, uh, she was in her room when you came to visit last time.”

“Right. When I came, huh.” Now that they are alone, with music thumping in the background and bright decorations hanging around them, Clarke’s mood elevates enough to make more puns.

Lexa chuckles. “That, too.” She simply looks at Clarke, her gaze soft. “You like it so far? This party, I mean? Mildly invasive and more than a little rude introductions aside, of course.”

“Of course,” Clarke laughs before stepping closer to Lexa, her arms finding her waist. “I love being with you. The party is a bonus.” She quickly looks around, taking everything in. Balloons, black and orange, carved pumpkins on literally every surface, LED candles and what Clarke hopes is fake spider web. “A really cool one.”

“So you like it.”

She can’t help a huge grin that splits across her face. “I love it,” she admits, leaning in close and nodding against Lexa’s collarbone. “Thank you for inviting me.” her lips graze Lexa’s skin, and she smirks when she feels her shiver at the light touch.

She’s surprised Lexa’s allowed her to get this close with people around. They haven’t really discussed going public. Back home, there was nothing to discuss due to its sheer impossibility. But here - here is a whole other deal. Here, no one knows she’s Lexa’s little step-sister. Here, no one knows her.

Well, except Dany and Gina, but somehow Clarke doubts either of them are interested in gossip. If they were, Lexa would have been hyperventilating to her about it for the past several weeks.

Perhaps, that’s the reason Lexa’s little touches and kisses are given so freely. Or, perhaps, Lexa’s missed her just as much as she has. It’s difficult to tell with Lexa, sometimes. She knows she loves her back, of course. She chose this school because of her, no matter how many times Clarke’s tried to talk her out of it. Lexa’s love shines through things she does, both small and huge. She’s not big on words. Not big on touching, either; Clarke’s long ago understood it’s enough for her to simply be in the same room as her, quietly reveling in her presence. Lexa is different. Different and incredible and hers and Clarke wouldn’t have it any other way.

But - Lexa does things differently, too. Things like feeling, for example. And sometimes, Clarke needs just a little more confirmation.

When Lexa’s fingers trail up her arm to her chin, gently lifting it and pressing her lips to hers, she thinks that maybe this is what she was waiting for.

“Thank you for being here,” Lexa tells her when they slowly part. “I like it a lot more now that you’re with me.”

“You mean I’m the only reason you’re here in the first place.”

“As romantic and mildly dysfunctional as it would have sounded, that’s not exactly true,” Lexa grins. “I would’ve made myself come here anyway.” Clarke looks at her curiously, so she continues. “I’ve been meaning to explore things,” she says. “I’d like to expand my comfort zone.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Lexa’s gaze is earnest and soft. “I want to.” She shrugs, taking both of Clarke’s hands in hers. “It’s nice. Being close to people. Understanding them a little bit more. They are a lot nicer than I originally gave them credit for,” she says, causing Clarke to snort.

“Hardly.”

“ _You_ are nice,” Lexa says, and Clarke laughs louder.

“To you. Because I love you,” she adds, softer. “And because you’re really good with your hands.”

“I love you, too,” Lexa moves past Clarke’s defenses and goes for the jugular right away. “And you’re a lot nicer than you give yourself credit for,” she paraphrases her earlier words, this time aiming them at her.

Clarke doesn’t wanna get into this. “Sure.”

Lexa’s lips on hers let her know she understood her desire to drop it.

“Score,” they hear someone whistle. Next, they hear a smacking sound. When they break apart and turn their heads to the right, there are two muscled guys glaring at each other, one rubbing the back of his head and another with his hand raised slightly.

“It’s 2016,” the second guy reminds the first one. “I catch you doing something like this again, you’re off the team.” He grabs the guy’s bicep and turns him around, pushing him to walk and throwing a quick ‘sorry, Lex!’ over his shoulder as he leaves.

“Thanks, Mike,” she calls after him. Clarke blinks, flabbergasted. “Oh, that was Mike,” Lexa supplies. “A soccer team captain. We spar sometimes.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Lexa smiles. “College is different from high school.”

“I’m not surprised. Well, I am,” she relents after Lexa gives her a look. “But I’m also - I’m happy for you. I can tell you like it here.”

“Surprisingly,” Lexa nods, scratching at her wolf ear idly. Clarke doubts she even realizes she’s doing it, and it’s so cute she has to kiss her again.

“Alright, The Big Bad Wolf,” she mumbles into the smiling kiss. “You ready to show me around your forest?”

//

Lexa wasn’t very ready, but Clarke is okay with it. The house is getting a little too crowded and the makeshift dance floor in the living room is more than a little packed. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed.

She finds Lexa in the bathroom after she gets her text. “I’m sorry for leaving you there,” Lexa says as soon as she walks in. “I just couldn’t… I just couldn’t.”

“I know,” she reassures her, settling next to her on the edge of a bathtub and taking her hand in hers. “You don’t have to apologize. Do you want to leave?”

“No, it’s okay. I just need a minute.” Lexa sighs, squeezing her hand, and suddenly Clarke is reminded of her mother’s wedding. When they sat just like this, but hesitant and unsure.

Time flies, indeed. “We can stay here for as long as you need to, okay?” she tells Lexa. “And if you decide you want to leave, we’ll leave.”

Lexa’s smile is quick and sincere. “Thank you, Clarke,” she says. “I don’t - ugh,” she takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out through her nose. “I don’t want to leave yet but I think I will soon,” she quietly says, an apology clear in her voice. “I guess we won’t be trying that thing I mentioned earlier. Not that it was possible to begin with. I think I miscalculated.”

Clarke has to ask. “You know I have to ask, right.”

Lexa takes another breath. “It’s actually something you mentioned a while ago,” she says. “I’m pretty sure you know what I’m about to say.”

“It’s public sex, isn’t it.”

“Yeah, it’s public sex.” Clarke expected as much, but hearing Lexa actually say that sends tingles down her spine again, just like when they kissed in the hallway. She tells herself to settle down, silently and sternly. Now’s not the time. “I was… wondering.”

“Wondering?” Clarke really tries, but her voice still comes out scratchy and low.

“Yes.” Lexa finally lifts her eyes to meet hers. She watches her clench her jaw, and fuck, this isn’t a good time, but she really, really likes it when Lexa does that. Must be part of the reason she constantly tried to find new ways to piss her off back in a day. “Wondering. About what it would be like to have sex in public. With people around.”

Clarke can’t claim to know Lexa extremely well, but she comes close - and what Lexa just said has to be meltdown-inducing to her. The way she moves her jaw and then locks it, the way she squeezes her hand - it’s easily visible how uncomfortable the thought makes her.

“What were you, um… imagining when you were wondering?” she mainly asks to put Lexa at ease, at first. Without realizing what a misstep it is on her part.

Lexa clears her throat and starts talking. “I was thinking of something bold,” she says. her voice grows deeper the longer she talks. “I was thinking of - well, this setting isn’t good for what I had in mind. I guess I was picturing a night club. With low lighting. And, um. I was thinking you could sit on my lap.”

“Okay,” Clarke whispers, because she’s afraid if she actually speaks, her voice will be nothing but an embarrassing squeak.

“Yeah. And you would - you would feel something that’s not usually there,” Lexa continues, dropping her voice to a low murmur. Her hand moves seemingly of its own accord, winding up on Clarke’s bare knee, squeezing and almost making her jump. “You wouldn’t ask me about it. You’d just go with it. Grind back, tease me a little bit.” She smirks, not unkindly. “As usual.”

“I’m not _that_ much of a tease,” Clarke huffs. It’s true. Lately, she’s not a tease at all. Hard to be one when she sees Lexa so little.

“Sure,” Lexa’s smirk grows wider. “But, anyway. At some point, I pictured myself unzipping my pants. Slowly, carefully. You feeling it and doing nothing to stop it. Lifting your skirt inch by inch.”

“Am I wearing panties in this scenario?” Clarke asks, more than a little breathless by now.

“No. Makes it easier.”

“Makes what easier?” they are leaning in simultaneously, gazes locked and pupils wide. Clarke thinks her heart might jump out of her chest any minute now.

“Sliding inside you,” Lexa breathes into her lips. Her grip on Clarke’s knee is tight; almost, almost bruising. Clarke wants more. “Finding you ready and dripping for me. You’d bite your lip once I’m inside, because you can’t scream. But you’d want to.”

Clarke is ready to scream right now if Lexa doesn’t kiss her, but at the same time she doesn’t want her to stop talking. “And then?”

“And then I’d fuck you. Slowly. I can’t exactly go fast with people around. So I’d just roll my hips. Stay deep. Rock you back and forth, just a little bit. But you’d be doing most of the work.” Lexa’s lips are brushing hers now, and her voice is nothing more than a whisper. “I imagined you squeezing your pussy around me, getting yourself off. Shifting till I hit just the right spot. Maybe kissing me when you’re about to come so you can’t scream. I also - you know, I thought of people talking to you while I’m buried deep inside you.” Clarke lets out a moan at that, strangled and almost pained as she imagines what Lexa’s describing. Fuck. “You’d have to talk to them. Trying not to come, or… While coming.”

Clarke’s lips crash against Lexa’s in a heated, bruising kiss that immediately grows deep. She feels Lexa’s hands find her waist, squeezing once before pawing at her back, sliding down to her ass. In one fluid motion, Lexa somehow picks her up and tugs her in her lap, and she has no choice - no complaint, either - but to entwine her legs around her torso.

Her core, already hot, brushes against the bulge between Lexa’s legs, and she cries out into her mouth, clinging to her shoulders. Lexa’s tongue slides against hers, wonderfully wet. Flicks the roof of her mouth, bringing forth another moan. She rocks into her in response, the bulge rubbing her clit deliciously.

“Fuck,” she pants, slowing down. “I’m gonna ruin your leathers.”

“I don’t care,” Lexa replies, stealing another kiss.

“Lexa,” she tears her mouth away once again. “I really, really want us to continue. But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. So I’m gonna ask you this. Do you want to leave and continue this in your room?”

She already knows the answer when Lexa sighs and looks around the bathroom. “I really want to continue, too,” she says. “But not here. Not tonight.”

Clarke gives her a soft peck. “Then we’re leaving. Tell Dany not to come back tonight.”

Lexa grins. “Already did.”

//

The walk back to the dorms is a short one. Lexa’s hand is warm and sure in her own as she tugs her, the two of them running and grinning at each other like mad. There are catcalls and whistles and drunk ghosts and mummies and Clarke doesn’t care.

All she cares about is running beside her, laughing and trying to steal kisses whenever possible.

They stumble through Lexa’s door and land on her bed in a tangled heap, smiling so wide the kisses are awkward and sloppy. “Door,” Clarke reminds Lexa breathlessly. “Closed.”

“How eloquent,” Lexa teases, springing to her feet and locking it.

“Shut up and come here,” Clarke orders. Or tries to. What comes out is trembling whine, but Lexa doesn’t tease her further. She complies, smoothly joining Clarke in one fluid movement, all lean muscle and effortless grace.

“You’re so beautiful,” she lets her know, because it’s the truth that she can’t hold in. The tips of Lexa’s ears burn that faint red Clarke loves so much, and she leans up on her elbows to drop a kiss on one of them before trailing her lips down to Lexa’s jaw, nibbling at the strong line. Delicious.

“You’re perfect,” Lexa replies. Her gaze burns Clarke’s skin where it lands as she gives her a lazy, thorough once-over. “I missed you so much.”

Something inside Clarke shifts and soars, making it hard to breathe. “Me too,” she chokes out. “Lexa - I need you. Please.” The wetness between her legs is impossible to ignore. She can feel it every time she moves, and it’s both the best and the worst feeling. Her body is begging for release, and Lexa’s the only one she wants to get it from.

Lexa doesn’t need to be asked twice.

They get rid of her leather shirt together, knocking the ears off as well. But, when Clarke’s deft hands venture lower, Lexa stops her, shaking her head and smirking at the silent question in Clarke’s eyes. “I wanna leave them on.” Then, she looks at Clarke’s body, licking her lips. “I want you to leave this on, too.”

The implication of her words makes Clarke clench around nothing so hard she arches her back, and Lexa practically pounces on her, mouth closing around her neck, sucking and nibbling and eliciting sweetest moans Clarke knows she loves so much.

She’s missed her. God, she’s missed her - couldn’t stop thinking about her, really, and there is unabashed desperation in the way she clings to her now, legs and arms around her body, hips rolling up. Lexa makes quick work tugging her panties off, leaving her in her cloak and dress that she hikes up on her hips. Her gaze that falls between her legs is pure hunger; when Clarke reacts, her cunt throbbing, it grows even darker.

Lexa’s fingers dig into her bare thighs, and she moans again. “Lexa, please,” she begs. “Fuck me already.” This isn’t about slow right now. It’s about finally feeling each other, seeking release, seeking relief from this agony of not being near. And Lexa gets it.

The sound of a zipper being pulled down makes her clench, again, but when she sees Lexa pull the cock out of her boxers, she throbs all over. She looks so fucking sexy like this: bare torso, tight abs, leather pants on and their favorite toy out.

“You’re so hot.”

“Likewise.” Lexa’s mouth finds hers again, demanding and impatient, and Clarke replies in kind, scratching down her back lightly. She feels Lexa rub the toy on her, getting it wet. The sensation alone brings her even closer. Her head is spinning, and the room is too hot, too small, but Lexa is here, grounding her and softly kissing her neck as she slowly enters her cunt.

“Oh God,” she babbles when she feels the pleasant burn of being stretched. “Fuck, Lexa, that’s so good. That feels so fucking good.”

She feels Lexa smile against her neck just before burying herself to the hilt with one quick, unexpected thrust. Clarke doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or impressed with herself over what happens next.

She lets out a sharp cry, digs her blunt nails in Lexa’s naked back, freezes, and comes. Simply because Lexa is filling her to the brim.

“Clarke,” she hears an awed gasp through the haze of her surprise orgasm, legs trembling as she clings to Lexa. “Did you just come?”

“...yes,” she pants, feeling herself pulse a couple of times around the cock. Inhales Lexa’s scent, fresh and sharp, letting it soothe her. “I did. Holy shit. That was fast.”

“You really missed me, didn't you?” Lexa quips, and she swats at her shoulder weakly.

“Shut up.”

Lexa drops a small kiss on her lips, short and sweet. “Should I keep going?”

“Are you kidding me?” she tangles her fingers in her hair, tugging her down for another kiss. “Fuck _yes_ you should keep going. Don’t you fucking stop.”

Lexa really likes it when she curses in bed. And she really likes to curse in bed. It’s a win win.

She gasps when Lexa starts to move again, gradually increasing her speed. She leans back to sit on her heels and takes Clarke’s legs, making her bend them at knees and spreading them wide. There’s deep concentration on her face that Clarke would’ve found adorable if she weren’t busy being fucked. There’s something primal to it all, something that has Clarke pushing back against Lexa’s thrusts, constantly moaning and crying out. The first orgasm took the edge off. Too quick, too sharp, it has helped her come back to herself and fully enjoy having Lexa inside her.

Lexa, however, is hell-bent on making her lose herself again, it seems.

She leans back even further, and Clarke nearly fucking screams, because now, the toy is stroking upwards, repeatedly hitting her spot. Her back arches of its own accord, lifting off the bed.

The dress is in the way now. So she gets rid of it. Lexa’s hands, greedy and quick, help her tear it up, over her head, help her fling it across the room together with the cloak where it lands on Dany’s bed. Her bra is next. Now, she’s completely bare before Lexa. Exposed and raw.

Now, she can feel Lexa’s skin against her own, and that’s what she does, sitting up and pushing at Lexa’s chest until she gets the hint and lies down. Clarke follows, sliding her body against hers. Their nipples brush together, and it sends an electric jolt right down to her clit, making her cry out.

“Fuck,” she pants, bouncing on the toy. Lexa’s watching her with eyes hooded and dark, gripping onto her sides. She’s so deep now. So wonderfully deep. “Lexa, oh my God…”

She slams down harder the closer she is to her release, and Lexa senses it. Her thumb finds her clit, pressing firm circles into it just the way Clarke likes it. She’s so in tune with Clarke’s needs - it’s almost scary. And so, so fucking good.

  
“Lexa,” she moans, grabbing her own tits, then grabbing Lexa’s, too. Tugging her up and giving her a deep kiss. She’s getting sloppy, and they both know what that means. “I’m gonna-”

She doesn’t get to finish her thought, because Lexa flips them over, green eyes now practically dark with lust. She pulls out, and Clarke damn near cries actual tears, but she simply grabs a small pillow from her chair and puts it under Clarke’s ass, Clarke’s legs now hooked on her shoulders.

When Lexa slips the toy back in, her whole body taut above hers, Clarke full-on sobs.

This is the best sex she’s ever fucking had, and that’s saying something considering Lexa’s been her only partner this past year. She’s so deep. She’s never been this deep, at least she doesn’t think so. And it’s not that she requires something this deep inside her to have a fulfilling sex life. It’s simply the feeling of this new, dirty, primal sensation that has her toes curling.

And then Lexa starts to move.

Her thrusts are sharp, and her entire body is driving them down, each one punctuated. It’s like she’s doing push-ups on Clarke, and Clarke knows - both of them know it won’t be long now.

The first wave hits when Lexa leans down to give Clarke a messy kiss, and Lexa realizes she’s coming right away - loud cries of her name kinda give her away. She starts pumping faster, then, and Clarke feels her eyes roll back in her head when she’s hit with another wave. And another. And another. It’s like she can’t stop coming, each contraction of her cunt stronger than the last. She’s not sure, but she thinks she feels a gush of wetness run down her inner thighs.

Lexa’s softly cursing under her breath as her thrusts slow down and she collapses in Clarke’s arms. “Clarke,” she pants. “Oh, Clarke, fuck. Love you. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she struggles to get out through her continuous orgasm, pawing at her back, trying to get to her even closer than she is right now. It’s full bliss over the two of them, and in that very moment, with Lexa on her, in her, all around her, a second equals eternity, and she’s happy and young and in love.

For a while, they lie there, trying to catch their breaths. Lexa’s pressing tiny kisses into her skin, and she smiles with her eyes closed as she draws lazy circles on her back, feeling every muscle ripple under her touch.

Best Halloween she’s ever had, that’s for sure.

“Hi,” Lexa whispers when she finally finds strength to raise her head and nuzzle Clarke’s cheek. She leans up on her elbows next, smiling down on her. “That was incredible.”

“I don’t think I can walk right now,” Clarke giggles - actually fucking giggles - brushing Lexa’s hair away from her eyes, sparkling and green. “You’re amazing,” she sighs into Lexa’s lips next before tenderly kissing them, first upper, then lower one.

Lexa’s smirking when Clarke breaks their kiss and her head hits the pillow again. “You were right,” she says. Clarke gives her a confused look, and she continues. “You did ruin my leathers.”

Clarke’s not even remotely phased when she looks down between her legs where they are still joined and finds Lexa’s pants wet and glistening around the zipper. “I’ll get them dry-cleaned. Or just buy you new ones. Fuck it, I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe if you keep fucking me like this.”

“Then technically you already owe me a ton of those,” Lexa points out teasingly.

“Fair point.” She tugs her down, and they kiss for a while, lazy and slow. “This is the best Halloween ever.”

“We’re not done yet, though.”

Clarke winces. “Baby, I love you and I always want you, but I don’t think my lady parts are ready to function just yet.”

“That’s not what I meant, Clarke,” Lexa scolds her, still smiling. “I meant I made some preparations in case we left the party early but weren’t in the mood for… you know.” she clears her throat, ignoring Clarke’s sultry look. “I have candy and cookies and some Halloween movies ready. I borrowed a projector from Mike. The snacks are Halloween-themed, too.”

Clarke feels her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“Clarke,” Lexa huffs. “When am I not?”

“What’s the movie selection?”

“Classics, mostly. There are some horror movies, and also The Nightmare Before Christmas, Hocus Pocus, Halloween Town.”

Clarke barely stops herself from squealing. “Oh my God. Lexa, oh my God.”

“I thought your lady parts weren’t functioning just yet.” Lexa laughs when Clarke slaps her shoulder lightly.

“Ass. I’m limiting your time with Raven. Also, thanks for reminding me - please move. It feels weird discussing favorite movies from my childhood with you inside me.” Lexa complies, and she moans at the sensations. She wasn’t lying - she feels amazingly spent, and it will be some time before she’s ready for another round, but having Lexa pull out of her is enough to slowly start building her arousal up.

She smiles when Lexa gently cups her pussy after getting rid of the toy. “Are you okay?”

“More than, but if you don’t stop fondling me, we won’t watch anything at all.”

“And we can’t have that,” Lexa nods and stands up. “Shower with me?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t walk,” Clarke points out. She barely finishes her sentence when Lexa quickly grabs her under her arms and knees and hauls her up in the air, cooing at her little surprised yelp.

“Problem solved.”

“God, I love it when you do that,” Clarke murmurs, snuggling close to Lexa’s bare chest in her secure hold. She feels so full, but instead of overwhelming, it’s soothing. She feels content. “Thank you for tonight,” she whispers, looking up to find green eyes studying her. “Really.”

“Like I said,” Lexa starts to walk to the bathroom. “We’re not done yet.”

“Oh, we are far from it.” Maybe she’ll be ready a little earlier than she thought.

Well. If Halloween wasn’t her favorite holiday, it sure as hell is now.


	3. christmas special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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This, Lexa thinks as she glances around the table, has got to be the weirdest Christmas she’s ever had. Or, maybe, ‘weirdest’ isn’t the right word. It’s definitely the fullest her house has been during holidays since she was little. When she was a child, she used to imagine having a ‘movie Christmas dinner’, as she called it in her head. Table full of food and room full of people laughing and eating and singing old carols. The older she got, the more she got used to the fact that it wasn’t going to happen; and she wasn’t really all that upset about it, either. By the time high school has started, she was more than happy with locking herself in her room and reading something until falling asleep, knowing that in the morning, she’ll have cash waiting for her under the tree that she’ll send to charity. Her father doesn’t celebrate it, and his previous wives were okay with skipping out on festivities, as well.

But that was before Griffins took residence in their house.

Clarke’s sent her pictures of getting the house ‘ready for Santa’ so she could be more or less prepared for the atrocity that her living room has become. Although she made it very difficult to focus on decor since all Lexa could look at was her wide dark eyes and her bitten lip and generous cleavage practically spilling out of her tight, red v-neck. She’s pretty sure that was done on purpose, too, so she wouldn’t care to notice the horrifying abundance of string lights behind her. No one needs that many string lights. It’s a fire hazard. Lexa is determined to let everyone know that before getting rid of half of them and re-hanging the remaining ones in the right order. You can’t just throw the lights around the room and call that decor.

But she has to admit, that picture - and all of the following ones - certainly gave her enough strength for her last final. And, on 21st of December, she’s ready for Clarke to drive her home. Of course, Clarke isn’t allowed to pick her up alone, so Lexa is greeted with two identically awkward-looking faces and one mildly pissed off one when she walks out of her dorms. The pissed off face brightens considerably when Clarke sees her, though, so not all hope is lost, Lexa muses.

She doesn’t even bother to hold onto her bags when Clarke practically jumps at her, squeezing tight and urgent. “Lexa,” she feels her breathe out near her ear, and it would’ve been so sweet if Clarke didn’t sound like she’s about to shatter.

Lexa suppresses the urge to glare at Abby who, no doubt, is glaring back at her. Instead, she closes her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of her girlfriend. Scent that brings back so many memories and fills her chest with warmth. “Clarke,” she whispers back, tightening her arms around her waist. “I missed you. So much.”

Clarke lets out something that sounds too much like a sob for Lexa to handle, and it’s nearly impossible to fight against the impulse to pick her up and carry her back to the safety of her room. Lock themselves up and spend these two weeks holed up beside each other.

But her father clears his throat, and she’s reminded of all the reasons she can’t do that. Not yet. “Baby, we have to go,” she murmurs to Clarke, low and apologetic, giving her one last squeeze before letting go. Clarke huffs, but steps back, bending down to grab Lexa’s bag while Lexa picks up her suitcase and gets the chance to look Clarke over. It’s a warm day, so she’s only wearing a coat over her sweater and a skirt that’s just a touch too short to be considered appropriate. Judging by Abby’s glare, she agrees.

Lexa loves it. “You look incredible,” she whispers to Clarke as she walks past her, and the blonde’s smile, both shy and sly, is more than enough of a reward.

“For you,” she whispers back, and Lexa can’t wait to be home already, sneaking into Clarke’s room and showing her just how much she has missed her these several months. They haven’t seen each other since that Halloween party. It’s been pure, agonizing torture.

Clarke’s eyes are filled with longing - the dark, heavy kind that promises sleepless nights and hoarse voices, and she wishes so, so badly she could do something about it right this moment.

“Hey there,” her father croaks, giving her a stiff hug, and she blinks in surprise, forgetting to hug him back in shock. He doesn’t appear to be bothered by it as he steps away, smiling at her. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. Hello, father,” she says politely before glancing at Abby. “Hello, Mrs - um. Hello, Abby.” she curses herself for her slip-up. It hasn’t happened in a long time. She guesses the distance has done its thing. To her, Abby will probably always be Clarke’s mother first and her father’s wife (her step-mother, she cringes) second. And she can’t quite get rid of ‘Mrs. Griffin’ every time she sees her.

Abby pretends not to notice. “Lexa. Hi.” She clears her throat, gesturing for her to climb in. The passenger seat. Seriously? “You can spend some time bonding with your father. I’ll sit in the back with Clarke.”

Both Lexa and her dad stare at her, one incredulous and one bewildered. Clarke just glares. “Come on, mom,” she hisses. “This is unnecessary.”

“I will be the one to determine that, honey,” Abby replies in steel voice, and Lexa tightens her fist before letting out a slow breath, unclenching it. It’s not entirely unexpected. And it’s only for three hours. They can survive those three hours.

Help sometimes truly comes from the most unexpected of places. “It’s okay, dear,” her dad says easily, smiling. “Lexa and I will get plenty of time back home. I’m sure the girls want to chat. You’ve seen how much they’ve missed each other!” He’s clearly trying to get out of having to ride next to her for three hours, and Lexa honest to god doesn’t care. She just wants to be near Clarke. Wants to hold her hand under the jacket they’ll drape over it. Wants to trace her thumb over palm and stare at her lips while she talks. She doesn’t want to spend the entire ride looking out the window - and she’s definitely not going to be staring at her father.

Abby tries her hardest not to scowl. “Yes, Charles, but I think it would be a good idea to make this a mini family roadtrip. Reconnect with our daughters. Christmas is all about family.”

“I’ll reconnect with you at home,” Clarke announces, no room for objections in her tone. “I want to spend time with Lexa now. What’s the big deal?” Lexa winces at that question because three people here are very aware of the big deal, and she doesn’t need her dad to become the fourth.

Abby’s eyes flash dangerously, but before she can snap at her daughter, Mr. Woods pipes up, relief palpable in his voice. “See? They want to catch up. Plus, we can reconnect as a family. We’ll all be in one car, after all. Come on, girls, get in the back.” He goes to open the door for them when he glances at Lexa’s bags and coughs. “Oh. I didn’t know you’ll bring two huge bags, Lexa.”

She blinks at him. “I’m going home for two weeks,” she reminds him. “I need clothes.”

“But you have clothes at home.”

She blinks again. “Yes. Home clothes. I brought the clothes I actually wear with me.” It’s not that she has to change an outfit every day, but she does need her essentials with her. Spare shirts just in case. Plus, there are also gifts for Clarke, but she can’t tell that to him, not in front of her. “What’s the matter?”

He shakes his head. “No, nothing - it’s just, I don’t have space in the trunk. I’m afraid we’ll have to put those with you girls.”

“Okay!” Clarke looks entirely too pleased with this turn of events. “Can we go now? I’m cold and hungry.” With that, she grabs Lexa’s suitcase and enthusiastically stuffs it inside the car. Her bag is next. Then, she gestures for Lexa to climb in, and Lexa wants to laugh when she peeks inside. Clarke’s placed her luggage so that there’s only one place left.

She wants to sit on Lexa’s lap for the entirety of the ride back home, and suddenly, Lexa’s sure the length of her skirt is a deliberate choice. She can’t believe this girl.

She can’t believe this girl is hers.

Abby, of course, almost has a heart attack. “What are you doing?!”

“What?” Clarke pouts at her innocently from where she’s seated on Lexa’s lap. “There’s no space for me left. I’m not riding on the roof.”

Abby’s face pales in muted anger. “Clarke, get off her lap this instant-”

“Honey,” Mr. Woods interrupts her gently. All of them are already in the car, so he starts up the engine before his wife can protest. “It’s okay. Lexa can take it, she’s a trained athlete.”

“Well, so can I,” Abby huffs. “Lexa, we’re switching.”

“You have a bad knee, Abby,” Lexa calmly reminds her. She’s not - it’s not that she’s being petty. She understands Clarke’s need to act out, but she doesn’t necessarily support it. But she has to admit, it does make her feel a little better watching Abby go red with anger.

“Honey.” This time, Mr. Woods’s voice is tinged with impatience. “Let’s just go. We all want to get home before dark, and we’re losing time.” Without waiting for his wife to reply, he starts the car, expertly sliding out of its parking spot and smoothly driving to the gates.

Lexa can’t see, but she’s sure Clarke’s smirking.

//

Has she mentioned she can’t believe Clarke? Well, she can’t. Lexa swallows a desperate moan down as her fingers trace wet heat, trembling.

She’s sure now, more than ever, that Clarke has planned this entire thing somehow. After half an hour of squirming on her lap and pushing her ass back into Lexa, she carefully inches her skirt up from behind. From the front, if Abby and her father were to glance back at them, they’d only see Clarke perched on Lexa’s lap, the coat she took off and placed on her knees covering her legs because ‘her legs are cold’. But from behind, her bare ass occasionally bumps into Lexa’s abs. And when she says bare, she means bare.

Clarke is wearing stockings. And that’s it.

She’s trying to kill Lexa, and Lexa has no objections. And the universe clearly has none, too, because, when Lexa glances at the front seats, she finds Abby fast asleep. She remembers how she is during long drives from previous summer. Dear God, previous summer. They spent two weeks in the Woods’ lake house, and Abby hated it because it was small and there were only two bedrooms. Which meant Clarke and Lexa had to share. Which meant staying up all night worrying about what Lexa was doing to her teenage daughter.

Nevermind the fact that Lexa is also a teenager and her husband’s daughter, but Lexa’s long since gave up her dreams of Abby approving of her. That’s just something they will have to live with, just like Abby will have to leave with the fact that Lexa’s not letting her daughter go as long as she’ll have her.

But. Previous summer. And now, her current situation. Lexa feels her head start to spin when Clarke slowly takes her hand and drags it behind her, to her round, bare ass and squeezing her fingers, giving her the go-ahead. It’s clear what she wants Lexa to do, and while she thinks it’s fucking crazy, she’s physically incapable of denying her.

So she drags her fingertips across Clarke’s ass cheeks, shakily, and feels more than hears the hitch in Clarke’s throat when she finally, finally trails it down to her inner thigh and brushes her cunt. And fuck, she’s absolutely soaked already, dripping on Lexa’s scarf she draped over her lap beforehand before climbing in it. Smart. Later, Lexa would be able to just ball her scarf up and stuff it in her bag, all evidence of Clarke’s essence gone, instead of trying to hide a wet patch on her pants that would no doubt form if not for the scarf.

Because Clarke - Clarke is drenched, and Lexa’s head spins harder.

It’s still not enough to satisfy this hunger burning in her chest that runs deeper than a mere primal need. She’s not able to pin Clarke to their bed with her whole body. She can’t feel her hot skin on hers and she can’t look in her eyes, impossibly blue, when she gently enters her for the first time in months. It’s not enough. But for now, it’ll have to do, because it’s also impossible to be this close to Clarke and not touch her.

She still tries to let Clarke know what she’s thinking. Leans in and slowly, gently presses her lips between Clarke’s shoulder blades, hoping her affection makes it through the thickness of her sweater.

Clarke’s hand finds her unoccupied left one and squeezes, bringing it up to her hip to rest, and Lexa knows she gets it when her thumb brushes over her knuckles. She wants this to be good for Clarke, however dirty and quick the situation calls for.

Except that same universe that was seemingly rooting for them in the beginning clearly has other plans, because her father, usually a confident driver, hits a pothole. It’s small enough so it doesn’t cause any damage, but it still jars them ever so slightly, and the situation would be comical if it weren’t so… hot, for the lack of a better word.

In short, Lexa’s hand slips up, and two of her fingers slip up, too. Slip in, more like it. Right inside Clarke, who’s so aroused they don’t meet any resistance at all, and Lexa can’t hold back an agonized groan, because mother of all that is holy, Clarke is wet. And all she wants to do is throw her on her back and slide down her body to where all the heat is concentrated, and devour her.

And Clarke, poor Clarke who hasn’t anticipated it, helplessly grasps at Lexa’s other hand and desperately squeezes, letting out a weak, surprised moan that’s a little too loud to go unnoticed.

Lexa’s just started praying to all the gods she knows that it doesn’t wake Abby up when her father glances in the rearview mirror. “You girls okay? Sorry, didn’t see a bump. We’re okay, though.”

“Y-yes,” Clarke squeaks out, casually pushing back into Lexa and taking her fingers in even deeper, up to the knuckles. “We’re - okay. Just startled.”

“Ah,” Mr. Woods is already facing the road. “We should be home soon, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Clarke replies, and Lexa knows it’s not about what her father has just said. All of Clarke’s attention is concentrated where Lexa’s hand is, holding her up. Fingers filling her up.

Abby is still asleep, and Lexa breathes out an inaudible sound of relief that Clarke must’ve heard, because next thing she knows, her girlfriend slightly turns her head to catch her eye, biting her lip at the sensations the movement brings to her. Lexa can tell she likes it. Loves it. The maddening fluttering of her inner walls is indication enough.

God, they are really doing it. They are really having sex in the backseat of her father’s car while adults are right there in the front. Right there. Lexa waits, with a frozen heart, for the inevitable suffocation the knowledge should bring, but it doesn’t come.

Clarke notices. She’s pretty sure that’s precisely why she’s turned to look at her. “Hey,” her voice is huskier than usual, but Lexa can see she’s trying very hard to concentrate on her and not on her fingers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t - fuck. It’s - it was supposed to be at your pace,” she rushes out in a whisper, genuine guilt in her expression mixed with almost pained pleasure. It’s a sight to behold, and Lexa’s left breathless for a whole other reason than a pesky panic attack. In the early twilight, Clarke’s features are sharper, the hollow of her neck more prominent, the blue of her eyes almost gone with how wide her pupils are blown, and Lexa can’t remember ever missing a person more. Probably because before Clarke, she didn’t have many people to miss. Maybe Anya. But Anya’s different.

Lost in her thoughts and in Clarke’s dark eyes, she still hasn’t replied, and Clarke shifts in her lap again, clenching when Lexa’s fingers brush against the back wall of her cunt. “Fuck,” she pants quietly, eyes becoming less focused. “Lexa, we can stop if you don’t… if you... Lex- ah!”

No, she doesn’t want to stop, and she lets Clarke know by curling her fingers inside her and dragging them out, only to push back in. She doesn’t want to stop, but she does need Clarke to be quiet. It’s already incredibly risky. They can’t have her father growing suspicious, and with the noise Clarke’s just made, it’s inevitable.

He doesn’t seem to notice the moan that’s escaped her, but Lexa’s not going to take their chances. “Shh,” she coos in Clarke’s ear before pressing a soft kiss right behind it. “You have to keep quiet, baby.”

“Fuck - I won’t be able to if you keep calling me that.” There’s unmistakable tenderness in Clarke’s otherwise strained, aroused whisper, and Lexa smiles against her shoulder, dropping another small kiss there. It’s already uncomfortably, almost painfully damp between her own legs, and she shifts, hoping to find at least some friction. The movement drives her in and out of Clarke, and Lexa catches the sight of her girlfriend biting down on her lower lip in pained concentration before she turns her head away and leans back, resting it on Lexa’s shoulder and closing her eyes. Completely at her mercy, body warm and pliant and ready to be played with.

Lexa wishes she were able to run her hand up to her breasts, tease her nipples before grasping one as she drives Clarke to a fast, powerful orgasm. But she can’t. Her father occasionally looks in the mirror to check the road, and she’s not about to give him a heart attack. That means she’s strictly limited to the territory under Clarke’s coat.

Clarke is pulsing almost uncontrollably around her now, and she can’t believe she’s this close already. But she also kinda can. The thrill of it all is the most alluring, insane thing she’s ever experienced. They just might have discovered something new to enjoy about each other.

Somehow, she knows Clarke needs to get off more than she needs to be taken care of. The time for gentle lovemaking will come later. Right now, it’s wanton and obscene and wonderfully filthy. And there is certain charm in it, even if she’s not able to pepper Clarke’s skin with tiny kisses while she takes her.

She still wants her to have more stimulation. While Clarke is able to come from just her fingers - and, sometimes, from simply squeezing herself around her - she wants it to be a little more about… fucking. She hasn’t used that word for them in a long time, but now, she can’t think of a better one.

And who said fucking can’t be done with love?

She starts to stroke inside Clarke, wishing she could see her face. It’s probably scrunched up as she’s trying not to make a sound, and a part of Lexa is struck with sympathy. She knows how difficult it is for Clarke. But there’s another, darker side of her that loves to test Clarke, to push just a little further to see what would happen. Perhaps, that’s why this experience is such a rush.

Clarke’s pulsing cunt gushes with more wetness when Lexa’s strokes became deeper, sharper - as sharp as their predicament allows - but when Lexa’s other hand quickly makes way under the coat and brusquely hikes her skirt up all the way, finding her clit, her whole body jerks, and she leaks in Lexa’s palm. Lexa distractedly thinks that she’ll probably have to throw her scarf away seeing as it’s most likely gone unsalvageable, and then she stops thinking about anything but Clarke quietly trashing in her lap.

Clarke’s started to come almost immediately when Lexa’s fingers have brushed over her hard clit. Lexa knows, because a strangled gasp tumbles from her lips and then her nails dig in Lexa’s thigh she’s sitting on, as if trying to tear through her jeans and leave marks on tan skin. Lexa gasps with her. Firmly presses into her clit that practically explodes under her fingertips as Clarke throws her head back in ecstasy and tries to ground down on her fingers, but Lexa’s arm around her hip stops her. They are already making way too much noise for Lexa’s liking. She desperately hopes her father doesn’t glance in the mirror for at least another ten seconds - that should be enough time to gather themselves.

Clarke lets out something akin to a sob, and then, it’s like she stops breathing at all. Lexa’s amazed at the way her cunt continues to throb, just as strongly as before. amazed and painfully turned on. She attempts to gently bring Clarke down from her high by softly stroking inside her and around her clit, but it helps exactly no one. Or both of them. Depending on how to look at the situation. Clarke just starts to come again, strong pulses making Lexa drip in her own ruined underwear. She’s so envious of Clarke right now. And awed. And in lust and in love and she just wants to-

“Aw,” her father glances in the mirror with a small smile. “Did she fall asleep, too? Just like her mom.” he looks to his right for a split moment, where Abby practically snores. “Long rides wear them out. Not like the Woods, huh?”

Lexa cringes behind Clarke’s shoulder, because it would’ve been awkward even without her fingers buried deep inside a coming Clarke. “Yeah,” she croaks out, wondering if her father is that ignorant or Clarke really does look like she’s sleeping and not having the orgasm of her life. (She’d be lying if she said the latter wouldn't hurt her pride just a little bit. Maybe a lot.) But it is getting dark, and Clarke must have her eyes closed, and her body is heavy, unmoving on Lexa’s. The only thing that - as far as Lexa can tell - is moving is her cunt. And it’s finally started to slow down.

While Lexa absentmindedly muses about her father’s obliviousness and simultaneously tries not to combust from the sheer need gathered between her legs, Clarke takes full advantage of Mr. Woods’ comment. She leans even further back into Lexa, cunt still pulsing but not as rapidly and strongly as before, and turns into her, pressing her face into her neck and letting out a long, breathy sigh that could be mistaken for sleepy. Lexa automatically takes her fingers out, cupping her pussy, and she feels the blonde smile against her skin.

“She’s really out of it, huh,” Mr. Woods chuckles. Lexa wishes he went back to ignoring her presence instead of awkwardly trying to build the bridge so overdue no one wants it anymore.

“Yeah,” Lexa says, because there’s really not much to say and she’d rather not talk to her father while her hand is on Clarke’s cunt. “I think I’ll try to take a short nap, too.”

Her father doesn’t look too disappointed. “Alright. It’s another hour or so.”

When he turns his attention to the road, Lexa discreetly, but hurriedly fixes Clarke’s skirt for her, and the girl shifts in her lap again, sitting sideways. Her back is facing Lexa’s door and her legs are touching her suitcase on the other side, and that position allows her to fully bury her face in Lexa’s neck and inhale, entwining her arms around Lexa’s waist. “A nap, huh,” she whispers, the sound of the road and quiet, smooth jazz from the car’s speakers making it so Lexa’s dad can’t hear them. That’s pretty much how it was during - Lexa’s face flushes at that - well, what just happened, and Lexa sends out another silent thank you to the universe.

“Someone wore me out,” she whispers back, smiling when she hears Clarke’s hushed chuckle.

“Liar. It was the other way around.” She lifts her face briefly to look at Lexa and it’s easy to see that she wants to kiss her, but she hesitates, and Lexa’s grateful for it. It’s too dangerous. The rush of what has just transpired between them is mostly gone, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to handle such an open gesture. After all, when she fingered Clarke, they had somewhat of a shield, however flimsy, and Lexa took some comfort in that. A kiss, though - her father could glance at them any moment now.

So she gives a tiny shake of her head, and Clarke sighs, tucking her face back under Lexa’s chin. “I love you,” she hears, small and genuine.

She can’t keep a giant smile from her face, despite her own sticky, uncomfortable situation. “I love you, too.”

A tiny kiss is dropped near her collarbone before Clarke speaks up again. “I think someone needs a little something,” she whispers, hand trailing Lexa’s tense abs. There’s silent hesitation in her voice, however. She’s clearly asking permission, and Lexa wants to grant it to her, but it’s too risky, her mind screams.

She catches Clarke’s hand, entwining their fingers. “Later,” she murmurs. She can wait. It might feel like she can’t, but she’ll have to.

Clarke clearly has another idea, though. Clarke also somehow senses the main reason for her refusal. “Lex,” she says lowly, soothingly. “I’m your… shield, okay? I can’t - I mean, it would be too obvious, but you can… yourself.” she sounds almost shy by the time she finishes, and Lexa can relate. But it’s not - it’s not like it’s something they haven’t done before. Just not in front of people, as oblivious as they may be.

But she’s startled to realize she’s too far gone to care when Clarke’s hands starts gently caressing her abs, nails dragging down her shirt. Lexa’s so glad she’s decided to ditch her coat, as well, because it’s too hot right now even wearing a thin pullover. She’d probably die of heatstroke if her jacket was still on.

Clarke’s breathing is shallow and irregular on her neck when she feels Lexa quietly pop the button on her jeans open and slip inside, and Lexa wants to groan with sheer relief at being touched, even if it’s just her own hand. But it’s also Clarke’s weight on hers. It’s Clarke’s nails scratching at her stomach and Clarke’s body pressing into hers and Clarke’s breaths on her skin. And that’s enough.

Lexa’s way past the point of teasing, but she still gathers some slick heat and brushes it over her throbbing clit, this time unable to hold a shaky sigh back. It’s like her whole body is tingling, and her cunt is on liquid fire. She knows she won’t last long.

And Clarke’s not helping. “I can’t wait till we get home,” she hears her whisper. Clarke lifts her head a little so that her nose is pressed just under Lexa’s ear, and it’s - distracting. “Can’t wait to spread my legs for you and feel you inside me. Properly. Fucking me till I see stars. The way only you can.” Clarke’s words are quiet, breathy moans in her ear, and Lexa’s just about ready to pass out because she’s the one seeing stars right now.

It’s over embarrassingly quickly, with Clarke murmuring dirtiest, wonderful things to her as she desperately strokes herself. Another couple of sharp flicks, and she’s gone, her whole body one taut string as she feels herself clench around nothing and seep through her fingers. Christ. That was - mind blowing. Fucking earth shattering. Her ears are ringing, and she’s pretty sure she won’t be able to walk if prompted to. Everything is a numb, pleasant hum.

Clarke’s quick to tug her hand out of her jeans and turn so that she’s facing the back window and Lexa’s hand is hidden between their faces. Then, she leans in and slowly takes her fingers into her mouth, gently sucking Lexa’s taste off them.

Lexa chokes.

“Couldn’t wait,” Clarke whispers when she’s done cleaning her up, licking their mixed juices from her lips. “You’re delicious.”

Lexa glances at the front seats where Abby’s still sleeping and her father’s humming under his breath as he looks at the road. “Well,” she doesn’t have anything better to say than: “Merry Christmas.”

She imagines Clarke’s smile is wicked where she feels it curl against her neck. “Oh, baby. It’s not Christmas yet,” she says, and there’s a dark, exciting promise in her words. Lexa gulps.

Somehow, she’s sure Clarke’s not hinting at the holy parts of festivities.

//

First, they have to survive this disaster of a dinner, though. Lexa sighs and looks around the table again. Her ridiculous sweater itches and it’s a little too hot with so many people in one room and - seriously, why does she have to wear this sweater?

But Clarke beams at her across the table where she’s seated between Raven and Octavia, wearing a matching sweater, only in red, and a Santa hat to top it off that’s just a little too big for her. It keeps sliding down to her eyes and she keeps readjusting it back up, giggling at something Raven tells her, and - Lexa doesn’t mind her tacky outfit that much anymore.

It makes Clarke happy.

Last Christmas, they were too busy with the wedding and personal stuff to really celebrate. Lexa’s half-sure Abby didn’t want to scare her father away before he married her, so the festivities were toned down. Way toned down, she thinks as she looks around for the third time, blinking.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t mind. The house resembles something close to an actual home. Not like it matters, though. As long as Clarke’s here, it’ll always be home - and Clarke’s not going to be here for long. Only half a year left, and she’ll join Lexa at Polis U. Lexa’s smile widens at this giddy coiling in her stomach the thought brings forth. And, as she glances back at Clarke, she sees the same excitement gleam back through her blue eyes.

“Octavia,” Abby speaks up, pouring herself more wine as she glances - mutely glares - at Lexa. “Is your brother going to join us tonight?”

Octavia blinks. Lexa doesn’t quite know what to make of her. She doesn’t really have an opinion about the girl. All she knows is that she’s a little crude and a little angry. She also knows Clarke and her share a weird friendship that comes to an end every couple of months over smallest things. Honestly, she didn’t really expect to see her tonight - she thought the only other person joining them tonight would be Raven, whom she was really looking forward to see - but apparently there’s been a change of plans at the last minute.

“Well,” Octavia speaks, replying to Abby’s earlier question. “Like I said, he’s out of town with friends.”

“Ah,” Abby acts like she’s just remembered, but Lexa knows that’s not the case. The coiling in her stomach becomes tense. Uncomfortable. “Shame, really. He’s such a nice young man.”

Octavia snorts. “Bell? Right.”

Abby sips at her wine. “That’s just sibling rivalry speaking,” she dismisses Octavia, and the girl purses her lips, visibly holding herself back from reacting. “He’s sweet. Is he dating anyone?”

“Not that anyone really needs that information,” Clarke mumbles. Lexa notices her fingers twitch near her plate before she curls her hand in a fist, and she wishes she could reach out and brush her knuckles with her fingertips.

“I’d need that information if I were you, Clarke.” The conversation takes a dangerous turn, and while Octavia’s merely bewildered, Raven worriedly glances between Clarke and Lexa, clearly thinking of a way to distract Abby. Lexa’s thinking the same thing, but she doubts her efforts will pay off as handsomely as Raven’s. She only hopes their friend comes up with something, because her mind is blank.

Abby continues to talk, even though Lexa’s sure there are at least three people who wish she’d stop. “You’re almost eighteen, and you’re still single. I met your father when I was sixteen.” She drinks some more wine, glancing at Lexa, longer this time, before focusing on her daughter. “You need to start thinking about your future, not to mention my grandchildren. I’d like to have them.”

“I’m not a child factory, mother,” Clarke snaps. This is going so, so bad.

“Wait,” Octavia lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You mean - you want Clarke and Bell to date? I - well, I’m sorry, Mrs. Woods, but I’m pretty sure they hate each other. Not to mention it would be gross,” she mumbles the last part under her breath, but it doesn’t look like Abby hears that.

“Oh, sweetie,” Abby waves a hand at her. “That’s how all great love stories start.”

“And all unhealthy relationships,” Lexa calmly chimes in. Clarke looks like she’s about to pop a vein, and Lexa can’t keep quiet anymore. There’s a flash of hot, unpleasant something in her chest, and she wants it to go away, because it makes her want to kick this table and smash a plate against the wall.

“What would you know about healthy relationships?” Abby blurts out, before remembering to compose herself under Mr. Woods’ confused stare. “I mean, you’re so young, all of you.”

“Exactly,” Clarke says slowly. “I’m eighteen. Bellamy is twenty four.” She fixes her mother with a blank stare. “Twenty four,” she repeats, even slower, clearly trying to get a point across. When Abby only glares back, her cheeks flushed, she shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” she announces, throwing a napkin onto the table.

“Thank God someone said it!” Raven suddenly pipes up loudly, startling Lexa and making everyone look at her. “I mean, I’m so freaking full,” she continues to enthusiastically lie her ass off, looking around the table. “Think it’s time we move this party to the living room, huh? Good ole Charlie Brown, who’s with me?”

“Rae, are you drunk?” Octavia whispers, but she waves the girl off, making her huff.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head to bed early,” Lexa’s father announces, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he leans back in his chair. “There’s some work I need to do, as well. But you girls go wild,” he gestures at them, smiling. “Say hi to Santa for me if you stay up late.”

“Will do, Mr. Woods,” Raven salutes at him, and he nods, standing up.

“Dinner was delicious as always, honey,” he addresses Abby who nods and forces a smile.

“Hey, don’t worry, Abby, we got this,” Raven speaks again when it becomes clear Clarke’s mom isn’t going to stand up. “We’ll clean up and do the dishes and everything,” she says, purposefully mistaking the reason Abby refuses to leave them alone. “And no drinking, scout’s honor.”

“I didn’t know you were a scout, Raven,” Lexa’s dad comments out of politeness as he awkwardly waits for his wife to leave with him.

Raven blinks. “Oh, it’s just a saying. I wasn’t actually - well,” she cuts herself off when Lexa shakes her head at her not to bother. “Hey, Abby, isn’t your anniversary coming up soon?” She looks between two adults, mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You know, we could go to my house and leave you guys to it if we’re, you know, messing with your plans,” she grins at Clarke’s mother.

The woman looks horrified at the suggestion that - if Lexa’s learned to understand raven - was really a thinly veiled threat. “No,” she says, a little louder than necessary. “There’s no need to do that. Stay here.” It’s more of an order, but she finally stands up, at least, so Lexa can’t really complain. “I guess we should be the ones to get out of your hair,” she mutters, grabbing her wine glass and finally, finally walking after her husband.

“Good night, girls,” Mr. Woods smiles, offering his elbow to Abby that she takes.

“Good night,” she echoes her husband. “Behave.” her eyes flicker between Clarke and Lexa when she says that, and tension is slow to leave the room after they are gone.

“Damn,” Raven mutters under her breath before standing up and starting to gather the dishes.

Clarke blows out a huge sigh. “Yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Octavia just blinks. “What the hell was that about?”

//

They do end up watching movies in the living room. Raven, the genius and the alcohol enthusiast she is, sneaked a bottle of Bailey’s in, and now Octavia and her are taking turns, passing the bottle back and forth. Clarke immediately turned it down.

“I don’t even like it,” she said when Raven proudly retrieved it from her overnight bag.

Octavia snorted. “We’re not drinking for the taste, princess,” she sneered, and Lexa hasn’t missed the way Clarke’s body jolted at the nickname.

“I’m not drinking, period.” And she left it at that. Octavia scowled at her, but Clarke pretended not to notice, comfortably curling up against the soft armrest of the couch and playing with Lexa’s fingers under the blanket.

Now, Lexa’s pretty sure Clarke’s friends are well on their way to being wasted, and she’s not entirely sure it’s not one of Clarke’s schemes. But no, Clarke’s merely snuggled up to her on the couch in what could be considered purely step-sisterly fashion, watching ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ with rapt attention and laughing at all the right parts. She’s warm against Lexa, and her fingers are drawing circles on her stomach in a way that’s too soft to be sexual.

But - well. She’s so warm against Lexa, and they are the only sober people in the room. And Lexa’s confidence, together with her comfort zone, has been growing exponentially ever since their little trip.

And, she admits begrudgingly, Abby’s words and the mention of boys she considers to be a good match for her daughter may or may not be playing their part in it. In what she wants to do right now. One glance to check on Octavia and Raven, and she decides to go for it. Raven’s eyes are glassy and drooping, and Octavia’s long since slipped into unconsciousness.

She starts small. Tiny, fleeting touches, no more than soothing, caring gestures. Tracing Clarke’s skin over her tank top - it was hot under the blanket, so they took their christmas sweaters off. Lightly scratching at her back here and there. Soft, tiny kisses pressed to the crown of her head.

She feels Clarke smile into her neck after a while, cuddling closer to her. “Feels nice,” she murmurs when Lexa starts to rub gentle circles on the small of her back. Other than that, she doesn’t do anything to acknowledge it. Simply continues to draw invisible circles on Lexa’s abs.

Until Lexa’s hand slips lower and gently cups one of her ass cheeks through the shorts she’s changed into before the movie, and she lets out a surprised gasp, head shooting up to catch Lexa’s gaze, calm and sure.

And then, staring in Clarke’s eyes, she slips her hand under the waistband of her shorts and panties, and palms the skin, watching Clarke’s expression rapidly change from astonished to incredulous to ridiculously turned on.

She gently grabs Clarke’s chin with two fingers, surprised at the amount of confidence coursing through her veins. “Shh,” she whispers. “Watch the movie.” And turns her head to face the screen, guiding her head to her shoulder.

She feels Clarke swallow before she does exactly as she’s told and it’s - absolutely incredible. Having Clarke, her stubborn, strong-willed Clarke surrender to her words, to her mere touch - she’ll never get tired of it.

Clarke’s hand has stopped tracing her abs, and now she’s just squeezing her t-shirt under the blanket. Her breathing has grown hard, just like that, and Lexa revels in the effect she has on her just a little before getting back to the task at hand. And what a firm task she’s got.

She grabs at Clarke’s ass, dragging her nails down to her thigh next, smiling when she feels her girlfriend shudder in her arms. There’s an idea in her head, and she wordlessly shifts, guiding Clarke to where she wants her. She sits up straighter, hauling Clarke up with her and making her sit with her back to her chest. Next, she trails her hand down her front, stopping briefly to brush her palm over her nipples, already hardened. Clarke lets out a strangled moan.

“Shh,” she stops her hand, inching the blanket higher, to their chins, and glancing to her side to check on Clarke’s friends. Octavia’s still asleep. Raven’s on her way.

Good.

Her hand slides down Clarke’s soft belly, to her shorts, and she smirks when the blonde wordlessly opens her legs, spreading them as far as she can. That results in something close to a butterfly yoga pose. One of Clarke’s bent knees lands on Lexa’s thigh, and she soothingly rubs it with her other hand before resting it next to her first one, just above the waistband of her shorts. She can hear Clarke’s heavy breathing. Can feel how hot her skin is under her touch.

And, her resolve crumbling, she thrusts her hand down her shorts, gasping in her ear at finding her so wonderfully ready for her. Clarke’s trembling as Lexa’s fingers gently spread her folds open, teasingly dip inside her cunt and gather wetness to brush over her swollen clit. She takes her time there, alternating between flicking her index finger over the hard nub and forcefully rubbing it up and down.

Clarke’s quietly whimpering almost nonstop now, her blunt nails dug into Lexa’s thigh, and Lexa’s suddenly struck with regret at not being able to hear her fully. Unabashedly. She wants Clarke to scream. Not into the pillow, not in her hand or her lips; she wants her to scream her love into the emptiness of the house. Wants her to moan and loudly whimper and gasp as she licks deep inside her.

She almost glares at two nearly passed out girls in the room with them when she checks on them next. Both asleep.

Fuck it.

“Clarke,” she whispers to the girl hurriedly. “Don't make a sound.”

Thankfully, Clarke only gasps when Lexa scoops her up and walks to the stairs with determination. She leaves the tv on, hoping the girls wake up when the movie ends and go to the guest bedroom to sleep. And even if they don't, Octavia looks pretty comfortable in the large chair, and Raven can take the couch she's sitting on now that they are gone.

Clarke's clinging to her and leaving desperate kisses on her neck as she practically runs upstairs, and suddenly she's decidedly less concerned with their guests’ sleeping arrangements.

She tries to open and close the door to Clarke's room as quietly as possible. Clarke's not making it easy, but she thinks she does a great job. Next, she quickly places Clarke onto the bed, immediately following after her, slipping between her readily spread legs. For a long, torturous second, they still. Stare at each other, eyes greedy and dark.

Clarke breaks first. “Lexa,” she whimpers, thighs flexing around her waist. “Kiss me.”

And, god, Lexa's ready to crumble when her lips finally press to Clarke's in a slow, tentative kiss. She doesn't want to rush into it. With this, she definitely wants to take her time. Clarke's lips move gently against hers, unhurried. Entirely unlike what the lower half of her body is doing, rising up to meet Lexa's stomach in a desperate attempt to find some friction.

When Lexa parts her lips with her tongue and licks into the roof of her mouth, she gasps, digging her nails into her back, and Lexa has to press on her thigh to keep her still. She rewards her a second later, though, holding herself up on one elbow and grinding down into Clarke’s cunt, coaxing mewls from her.

“Fuck,” Clarke pants when Lexa pulls away, only to hungrily pepper her neck with kisses and nibbles. “Lexa.”

“I'm here.” The reality around them twists and bends, fading away. Nothing matters, nothing exists but this bed and these greedy hands and these desperate lips exploring every inch of skin they can reach. “Tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“You,” Clarke breathes, immediate and sure, and Lexa drops a quick, deep kiss on her lips for that, smiling.

“Always,” she whispers.

Clarke smiles back, and Lexa swallows, letting herself disappear in this moment of pure affection as blue eyes soften and a hand reaches out to cup her cheek, thumb swiping at her cheekbone.

Then, Clarke rolls her eyes, teasingly. “Okay, Romeo,” she says. “I also kinda need you to fuck me.”

“Kinda?” Lexa’s smile turns into a smirk. “I'm hurt.”

“Fine. I really need you to fuck me. Happy?”

“You're about to be, that's for sure.” Lexa teasingly brushes her fingers over Clarke’s shorts. She really wants to taste Clarke, but she knows Clarke needs to be taken like this the first time. While she can kiss Lexa and moan into her lips and stare her in the eye as she comes. Clarke's a complete and hopeless closeted romantic, and Lexa doesn't mind at all.

She likes taking her like this, after all.

The shorts finally get dragged down Clarke's shapely legs, together with her - stunning, Lexa notes before she throws them behind her - underwear, and Clarke quickly helps Lexa get rid of her own sleepwear. Their shirts don't remain on them for too long, either; and it's always fun to search for them after they are done, Lexa smirks to herself. Clarke's panties frequently end up in the most unexpected of places.

But that's something to think about later, when they are sated and boneless against each other.

Lexa lets out a long, content sigh when she feels her skin slide against Clarke's naked body, and she's not alone in her relief. Clarke's hands find her shoulders as she leans up and kisses her, this time deep and impatient, and she moans when she feels Clarke's legs close around her waist. She crosses her ankles over her ass, and that leaves her open and bare under Lexa's abs - the fact she happily accepts when Lexa grinds into her again, fast and calculated.

Clarke can't stop her moans, and Lexa doesn't want her to. They aren't loud, anyway; nothing that could be heard through the heavy door of Clarke's room. So she lets go and lets herself enjoy every little sound that falls from Clarke's lips.

“Fuck,” she curses as she feels more wetness against her stomach. Someone's clearly excited. “I love how wet you are for me.”

“Always,” Clarke repeats her earlier words, breathless. “Lexa. Please.”

She thinks of teasing Clarke just for a fraction of a second, but truth be told, she's not sure she'll be able to withstand that herself. So she doesn't. Her hand quickly travels between their bodies, down to her drenched cunt, while her lips close around a wonderfully hard nipple.

“Shit!” She hears Clarke curse above as her hold on Lexa's back tightens. “Just like that,” she whimpers, arching her back into Lexa's touch.

Lexa lets go of her nipple only to growl out an order. “I'm going to fuck you, and then you're going to eat my cunt,” she instructs, easily slipping two fingers inside Clarke and watching blue eyes roll back in her skull. Clarke's hot, slippery silk around her, and she grunts when she feels her clench. “Now, you're going to take three,” she leans in to whisper in her ear before sucking on it, grinning at Clarke's excited moans. True to her word, she slips a third finger in, and it doesn't take Clarke long to adjust to it.

And then, she proceeds to demonstrate all her love for this girl by fucking her brains out. Clarke's eyes flash with absolute delight when Lexa has to press a hand to her mouth, other one working furiously between her legs. Her cunt is fluttering around three of her fingers, never slowing down. She doesn't touch her clit yet, on purpose, because she wants Clarke to last a little longer. Wants her to feel it all tomorrow, when she's a little sore. Wants her to have trouble walking and sitting down without a wince.

Because she can see it in Clarke's eyes that Clarke desperately craves it all, too.

So she pressed Clarke into the mattress harder and angles her hips behind her hand so that they help her pound inside Clarke as fast and as deep as she can. Clarke’s muffled scream under her hand is more than worth the slight ache in her wrist.

By the time Lexa feels like she's ready to let Clarke come, she's practically sobbing. But her blue eyes are bright and twinkling, and Lexa's not worried. She's happy, and she's in love, and she wants Clarke to always remember this night, just like all their other nights together.

She leans down, resting her forehead against Clarke's as she slows down her thrusts, now stroking deep inside Clarke with determination. “Let go, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to Clarke's brow and tasting her sweat. “Come for me.”

Her thumb flicks Clarke's clit, once, twice, the third time, and that, together with her strokes and a firm kiss she pressed to Clarke's lips, proves to be her undoing.

Clarke's body arches so hard she almost throws Lexa off; it it weren't for her strength and her reflexes, she probably would have. Lexa eagerly swallows her screams. This, right here, feeling Clarke under her, her nails down her back and her lips on hers - this is something she can't replicate during their long calls. This is something she never wants to leave without.

And this - Clarke’s breathing slowing down and her heartbeat returning to normal as she buries her face in Lexa's neck - this is something she loves even more, she thinks as she tiredly brushes her lips against her temple.

She holds Clarke for a long time while the blonde drifts in and out of it, before she releases a long, happy sigh. “God. I needed that.” A small kiss on Lexa's lips, short and sweet. “Thank you.”

“I don't think you're supposed to thank me for sex.”

“I am when it's this good,” Clarke smirks, and the next kiss is longer, colored with a promise she knows Clarke will keep. “I believe there's something I gotta do now.”

Lexa has the decency to blush. “You don't - I mean, that was… heat of the moment,” she mumbles. “You don't have to… stick to the script.”

“But I liked the script,” Clarke drawls, pushing at her until she's on her back and her girlfriend is hovering above her, smirking at her. “You,” she points at Lexa, finger touching her chest, “fucked me. So good. And now I,” she points at herself next, “am going to - what was that? Oh. Eat your cunt,” the last words are hotly whispered in her ear, and Lexa shudders. Fuck.

“Okay,” she croaks, and Clarke laughs.

“Okay.” She draws back, graceful under Lexa's hungry stare. “Sit on your heels for me,” she half-asks, half-orders, and Lexa's eyes grow wide with the realization. She knows what Clarke wants, despite her ordering tone. She wants a continuation of the fucking she's just received from Lexa. She wants her to use her, her mouth and her lips, for her own pleasure. And Lexa's not about to deny her that.

It is Christmas, after all.

So she nods and slowly rises to her knees, reveling in Clarke's awed gaze as she leans back, sitting on her heels with legs spread apart.

“Good girl,” Clarke's purr sends a shiver down her spine, and she feels her lower abs twitch in anticipation. “Fuck, I love it when you do that.” Lexa watches, eyes wide and chest heaving, as Clarke lays on her stomach and comes face to face with her glistening cunt. “God, Lex, you're dripping,” she moans.

“Whose fault is that?” Lexa grumbles. She's meant for it to be light. Teasing. But something inside her must've shifted and clicked into another place, because what comes out is a stern growl. She watches, with baited breath, as Clarke shudders and one of her hand travels between her own legs to touch herself at the sound.

“Mine,” her girlfriend quietly says, looking up at her with big, innocent eyes.

Lexa swallows. “That's right,” she says. “This is your mess. Clean it up.”

Clarke doesn't have to be asked twice. She scoots closer, places both of her hands on Lexa's powerful thighs, and dives in between them, giving Lexa's cunt a wet, dirty kiss, eyes closed in pleasure. At her taste, she moans.

Lexa moans with her. Clarke's tongue is so wonderfully soft yet firm. So wet and skilled as it dips down to her slit and licks up and down before swirling around her clit. It’s gentle and teasing one second and pressing, demanding next, and Lexa thinks she's about to go crazy from how good it feels.

Clarke starts to firmly suck on her clit when she leans back on one hand, opening herself up more for the girl’s mouth, and gathers her hair with her other hand, giving it an impatient tug and practically shoving her face into her cunt. She feels like she's floating, and it's incredible; but she knows she's ready to crash and shatter.

The rolls of her hips become thrusts when Clarke correctly guesses what she needs and presses her tongue to her clit, flat and firm. Lexa can't hold back her sighs and curses as she gets herself off against Clarke's tongue, fingers squeezing blonde hair.

Two of Clarke's fingers gently easing into her are enough to push her over the edge, and she happily surrenders, mouth falling open in a silent cry as she grabs Clarke's head with both hands and thrusts into her tongue, on her fingers one last time and stills, lost in her own throbbing.

Clarke's gentle lapping brings her higher, and she whimpers, her hold tightening as she thrusts a couple of times, riding out her high before finally weakly pushing away and falling onto her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Clarke cuddles into her side, and she gladly opens her arms, accepting her kiss and humming at the taste of herself she finds there.

“That was incredible,” she whispers when they part, and the shy happiness in Clarke's eyes takes her breath away.

“It really was.” Clarke presses another kiss to her lips. “I missed you so much.” She sounds - she sounds happy, yes, but there's sadness lurking around the edges of that sentence, and Lexa doesn't want their night to be tainted with it. Not this one, at least.

She turns on her side and scoots down until she's face to face with Clarke. “I know,” she says. “But I'm here now. Okay?” She brushes blonde hair away from blue eyes, smiling at her until she smiles back. “Come on. I can see how tired you are. Let's sleep for a little while.”

Clarke's eyes flash with worry. “But - my mom, she check on me in the morning-”

“I'll wake up before that, I promise,” Lexa hurried to reassure her. It's not an empty promise, either. She knows she will be up before anyone else. And even if her internal clock somehow fails her, the door is locked. She'll have plenty of time to throw clothes on and climb out Clarke's window if it comes to it.

She just wants to fall asleep with Clarke in her arms.

“Okay.” Clarke's trust is as strong as her own desire to have Lexa hold her as she falls asleep. Lexa's still quietly stunned at both of these things. Clarke throws an arm and a leg over Lexa, snuggling close. “Wake me up before you leave, though.”

“Sure.”

“Lexa.”

“Well - I'll try.” It's not that Clarke's a heavy sleeper - she is, but the reason she's reluctant to agree is because Clarke's too damn cute when she sleeps. Lexa has a hard time waking her up because she just wants her to sleep for a while longer.

But Clarke's blue eyes are stern, and she sighs. “I'll wake you up.”

A beaming smile makes it worth it. “Good,” Clarke whispers into her lips before kissing her goodnight. “Sweet dreams.”

“You, too,” she whispers back, fingers gently brushing her hair. “Good night.”

Clarke doesn't answer, but she presses a final kiss right over Lexa's heart before stilling, and something burns in Lexa's chest, heavy but not entirely unpleasant.

Her hold only tightens around Clarke as she, too, drifts off to sleep.


	4. firstborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clexa bond with their newborn and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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It’s quiet when Lexa walks into the house, which is a certain improvement from the night before. For some reason, little Anya is convinced that day is for sleeping and night is for loud, loud wailing, and she doesn’t seem to be changing her mind any time soon. Definitely takes after her stubborn mommy, Lexa thinks with a smile. 

 

Clarke and her are still arguing about who that stubborn mommy is. Perhaps, both of them are right, in a way. Last night, though, Lexa proved Clarke’s point. She vehemently refused to let her get up to check on Anya, insisting on waking up herself and bringing their baby to their bed for feeding. 

 

Their baby. A week ago, Clarke brought their baby into the world. Into their new world that’s changed forever. She still has trouble believing that. It’s as if only yesterday they were unwilling step-sisters having hate sex with parents away and blissfully unaware, and now -- now they are here. Married. With a baby. 

 

The thought never fails to fill her with warmth. Sometimes, it threatens to overflow. But Clarke is always there to catch the drops and put it back. She’s been there for nine years, God knows why, and Lexa hopes it’ll last for the rest of their lives. She’s almost sure, by now. Almost. Clarke jokes that it’ll take her another nine years to realize she’s not going anywhere. 

 

She carefully places her briefcase on the floor. Then, kicks off her shoes and dusts snow off her shoulders. She climbs upstairs as quietly as she can, so as not to disturb her girls. And, since she’s assumed they are sleeping, she’s surprised to find Clarke wide awake and smiling down at a small, mildly fussy bundle in her arms. 

 

Nine years, and Lexa’s breath still catches in her throat when crystal blue eyes find hers. “Hey,” Clarke whispers, and her smile grows. “I heard you come in, but I didn’t want to yell,” she says, gently patting Anya’s back to indicate why. 

 

Lexa nods. “How are you feeling?” she asks, gingerly sitting down on the corner of their bed. It’s huge enough for three people - they tested that theory when Raven first came to visit and had a brilliant idea for a classic sleepover - but Lexa is hesitant to fully settle next to Clarke. She looks -- it’s like she’s glowing as she greedily maps out every line of their daughter’s face with her eyes while feeding her. It’s their special time. 

 

And Lexa doesn’t want to intrude. She’s content with watching from afar - committing every movement, every smile to memory, storing it away to cherish later. 

 

But, even with her nearly perfect memory, she constantly forgets that her wife is Clarke Griffin, and Clarke Griffin won’t have none of that. 

 

“Baby.” It takes Lexa half a minute to realize she’s addressing her and not their little Anya. Clarke’s gentle smile grows. “What are you doing all the way there? Come here. Someone promised to hold me this morning, and I intend to cash in.” 

 

Lexa knows why Clarke is doing that - aside from an understandable need to have her wife hold her as she feeds their baby, of course. She wants her to feel a part of it. but she does feel a part of it. She feels that Anya is every bit hers as she is Clarke’s. She feels that this girl already has her wrapped around her little finger - perhaps, even more so that her mother, which, according to one Raven Reyes, isn’t even “scientifically possible”. 

 

“I’m a NASA engineer,” she told Lexa. “I know what I’m talking about. That’s it. You peaked. You’re the most pussy whipped person I’ve ever met. You can’t go any higher.” 

 

(And, for all of her near perfect memory, she can’t, for the life of her, remember why exactly Raven was telling her that.) 

 

So, she doesn’t have any problems about bonding with her child. She’s just -- maybe she’s just being silly. 

 

Clarke’s eyes are warm and inviting, and so she nods and climbs in. Carefully. She doesn’t want to disturb them. 

 

“Shake a leg, will ya?” 

 

“Charming,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and finally pressing a kiss to Clarke’s waiting lips. Chuckles, as usual, at her relieved sigh. 

 

“Missed you,” Clarke lets her know in a whisper. “Hold us?” 

 

Lexa can’t say no to that voice and those eyes, even if she wanted to - and why in the world would she ever want to? She shakes her head slightly. Weird thoughts. It happens. She takes the pillows Clarke’s placed behind herself in advance - exactly so Lexa could replace them when she got home. Takes them, tosses them away, and settles in, letting Clarke’s appreciative sigh wash over her. 

 

“Much better, isn’t it?” Her wife murmurs, leaning into her. Anya’s still attached to her nipple, not caring in the slightest about things happening around her. In some aspects, she’s already taking after her namesake. Certainly when it comes to food. 

 

It’s like Clarke reads her thoughts. “When is Anya coming to visit?” 

 

“She said summer. Then, when I told her we named her after her, she said next month,” Lexa says. Most of her words are mumbled into Clarke’s neck. She smells heavenly. Her scent has always been incredible to Lexa, but after she gave birth - there’s just something irresistible about it. She can’t help herself sometimes. 

 

But she has to, and she’s reminded of that when Clarke leans further into her with a small moan and then subtly shifts away. “Stop it,” she murmurs. Lexa can hear a smile in her voice. “We have to wait. At least three more weeks.” 

 

Lexa blinks, suddenly worried. “Of course,” she hurries to say. “I didn’t mean to -- pressure you or--” 

 

“Don’t think like that.” Clarke’s interruption is immediate, and her fury is quick. But it’s not for her. Lexa knows it’s not. It’s an old wound neither of them quite know how to close. A wound Abby Griffin has been the cause of, with an angry accusation thrown in Lexa’s face. She has tried to make it right. They thought of letting her believe she has, but lies, Lexa reasoned, only lead to more lies. 

 

But she doesn’t want to think about it right now, and she doesn’t want Clarke to think about that, either. “I’m not,” she says quietly. Presses a small kiss to her cheek, and smiles at Clarke’s content sigh when she tightens her arms around her and their daughter. “I just want you to know that we’ll wait for as long as we need. And even though I miss you, this is more than enough for me.” She supports her words with another gentle squeeze of her arms. 

 

“Oh,” Clarke says. Her voice drops to a whisper, because Anya starts to squirm in her sleep, and as much as they love her, they really wouldn’t oppose to her being quiet for a little longer. Fortunately, Clarke’s gentle rocking calms her down. “I miss you, too. Like, a lot,” she sighs wistfully, turning her head so that her nose brushes against Lexa’s cheek - and Lexa feels shivers run down her spine when Clarke inhales her scent, slowly, deeply. “I get what you’re saying and this is enough, but I can’t wait for these three weeks to pass.” 

 

Clarke’s whispered confession sends a muted jolt to her core, and she shifts, carefully, lips briefly brushing Clarke’s in a chaste kiss. “I know. Me too.” 

 

“Maybe,” Clarke starts, and Lexa picks up on her unsure tone. “Maybe, we could… After two weeks?” 

 

She presses her amused smile against the side of Clarke’s head. So impatient, still. “Only after consulting with Dr. Gilbert first.” 

 

She can’t hold back her own tiny moan when Clarke’s backside presses into her, a twinkle in blue eyes letting her know how deliberate it was. “Deal.” 

 

// 

 

She’s telling Anya about a new documentary they are currently watching when Clarke reemerges from the bathroom, wincing as she sits down on the couch Lexa’s pulled out. She sends her a sympathetic glance. 

 

“Everything okay?” 

 

Clarke’s wince deepens. “Kinda,” she sighs, crawling up to Lexa and placing her head on her shoulder, Anya happily gurgling as she lies between them. “Good thing I have an appointment with Liz tomorrow. It still hurts when I pee.” 

 

Lexa sits straighter, alarmed. “Hurts?” 

 

“Well, it’s not too painful, ” Clarke tries to explain. She also tries to get Lexa to lean back again by tugging on her sleeve and pouting. Chuckling, Lexa complies, using one hand to rub Anya’s belly and hooking her other arm around Clarke’s shoulder. “It’s just -- it stings more than anything. I want her to look at that tear I had during delivery.” She feels her wife shift, letting out small sighs of discomfort. “Ugh. It’s not as bad, but sometimes my whole pussy feels sore.” 

 

Lexa barely manages not to choke. “Your --um,” she clears her throat, firmly fixing her eyes on TV. “Yeah, we should -- we definitely need to ask Dr. Gilbert about your, um. Tear! About your tear.” 

 

Clarke’s already sitting up and studying her face with an amused smile when she’s done making a complete fool of herself. “Lexa,” she says, and it’s clear that she’s trying not to laugh. “Are you blushing?” 

 

“No,” Lexa lies. For some reason - and because Clarke is a divine gift sent to her by gods - her wife finds it cute. She still fails to hold her giggles in, and Lexa patiently and embarrassedly waits for her to be done with muffling them in her shoulder. 

 

“Baby,” Clarke finally says when her quiet laughter subsides. “I pushed your daughter out of my vagina, and you blush when I say pussy?” 

 

This time, Lexa’s hands close over Anya’s tiny ears of their own accord. “Clarke!” 

 

“What? Oh come on, Lexa, she's barely a week old.” 

 

“I know, but…” she takes her hands off her newborn’s ears because frankly that is a little ridiculous. Anya struggles to focus her eyes on her, curiously watching her mom’s face become a slight shade of pink. “It’s -- that word is rather… intimate, okay? Vagina is fine.” She can do ‘vagina’. It’s clinical and impersonal. But that word makes things happen to her body that she’d rather not have happen while their week-old daughter is lying between them. 

 

(In her mind, pussy is Clarke’s soft moans and her heavenly scent and her intoxicating taste and she’s so not thinking about it right now.) 

 

Thankfully, Clarke decides to let it go with minimal teasing. “Alright, you big baby. My vagina is sore. Is that better?” 

 

Not really because Lexa’s mind is already spinning with memories and desires and she can never shut her brain off fully, but she’s not going to let Clarke know that. “Yes,” she says instead, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before slowly getting up. “Be right back,” she tells Clarke soothingly when her wife frowns, looking like she’s about to protest. When she comes back, Clarke’s frown is already gone, replaced by a smile as she coos at Anya - a smile that only grows when she sees what Lexa’s brought back with her. 

 

“I thought we were all out,” she says, scooting closer to Anya so Lexa can climb in behind her, and letting out a soft squeak when Lexa accidentally brushes the object in her hand against her bare thigh. “Cold!” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Lexa murmurs. Places a lingering kiss to her shoulder as an apology. “I got some more last night, just in case. I know you said you were getting better, but it never hurts to be prepared.” She presses even closer to Clarke, letting her use her arm as a pillow as they both watch Anya who’s on the verge of falling asleep. “You ready?”

 

“You’re wearing a surgical glove,” Clarke laughs in response. 

 

“I want to keep everything clean down there,” she defends herself through her own laughter. “Okay, hold still.” 

 

Clarke still squirms a little when Lexa gently presses a cloth-wrapped ice pack between her legs, but almost immediately after that, she lets out a long, relieved sigh. “This feels almost as good as sex.” 

 

“Then I definitely need to up my game.” 

 

Clarke’s kiss is sparkling with laughter. “I said almost.” 

 

They trade small kisses and smiles as Lexa holds her, only standing up to change the ice pack every twenty minutes, and they stay like this for an hour before it’s time to feed Anya. 

 

// 

 

Going back to work after a month spent curled up with her wife and her daughter is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. But duty calls and Clarke claims she’s going to be okay on her own now that her body has mostly healed. 

 

“Lexa,” she giggles against her lips when she leans in for what seems like a hundredth time. “You’ll be late.” 

 

“Do I really need this job?” she mumbles in response, covering Clarke’s face in tiny kisses and greedily watching her scrunch up her nose. 

 

“Sadly,” Clarke sighs, letting her kiss her one last time before lightly shoving at her chest, “yes. Go be a big shot lawyer. No affairs with interns. You have a child now.” 

 

She knows Clarke is kidding. Mostly. But she’s learned - sometimes the hard way - to read those big, blue eyes, and right now, she sees something in them that doesn’t let her merely brush it off. Not that she ever brushes Clarke’s words off; but especially not when she sees a silver of genuine insecurity flash in her gaze. 

 

So she steps closer to her again, and a lingering kiss she gives her tastes of sizzling passion, so unlike the previous softly affectionate ones. “I have you,” she tells her, quiet and serious. “I’ve always had you.” 

 

“Jesus Christ, either bang already or get the fu-- uh, the fudge out!” 

 

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Thank you, Raven!” She calls back. Her only response is Raven’s laughter and Anya’s happy yelps, the sounds easily floating from the living room to the hallway. “Why is she here, again?” She asks Clarke in a teasing tone. Mostly teasing. She was romancing her wife, after all, and Raven kind of messed that up. So. Mostly teasing. 

 

If Raven didn’t have such a noble, selfless mission, she’d -- still do nothing, probably. Coming to love that woman has been a surprising development, but that hasn’t made it any less incredible. 

 

Clarke has to blink to get her eyes to focus again, and Lexa can’t help but give herself a mental high-five. “I. She, um. Wanted to hang out with her niece.” 

 

She can only grin at Clarke grasping the lapels of her coat to keep upright. “Well, have fun. I wish I didn’t, but I really do have to go.” 

 

“Okay. I -- okay. No, wait -- today is,” she watches Clarke’s throat bob as she swallows. “It’s, um, it’s been four weeks. Today.” Her hooded blue eyes tell Lexa everything she doesn’t voice out loud. 

 

She really thinks Lexa doesn’t know that. That’s kind of exactly the reason Raven’s here. Except Clarke doesn’t know that yet. 

 

She kind of wants to pretend to be calm at first, but Clarke’s gaze is hot and eager, and she can’t find it in herself to pretend. There is no point, anyway. “Do you think you can schedule an appointment with Dr. Gilbert today?” She murmurs, reveling in Clarke’s quiet, shuddering sigh when she rests her forehead against hers. “Final green light. It’s important.” 

 

“I know,” Clarke whispers. “I kind of maybe already did. It was supposed to be a surprise. I know you don’t like them but it wasn’t, like, a surprise surprise--” 

 

“For God’s sake, your kid is here! Get a room!” 

 

Lexa coughs and hurries to leave before Raven reveals anything more. “I’ll see you tonight,” she tells Clarke before leaving a final kiss. And another one. And accepting one from Clarke. “Okay, I’m officially late.” 

 

“I’ll call you after my appointment,” Clarke smiles. A special, dreamy kind of smile that makes Lexa’s heart stop and then restart, beating twice, thrice as fast because she still can’t quite believe she’s the reason for that smile. 

 

It’s all hers. “Okay. You do that.” 

 

Another lingering kiss, and she steps out into the cold, the weather outside a complete opposite to the hot, pleasant coiling in her stomach. 

 

Tonight.

 

//

 

She sends Clarke a text when she gets to the hotel since she’s not sure if she’s done with her appointment yet. Clarke replies almost immediately. 

 

**Clarke:** _babe? did you mean to send this to someone else?_

 

**Clarke:** _i just checked and this is a hotel address so it actually better not be for someone else_

 

She smiles, amused. 

 

**Lexa:** _It’s for you._

 

**Clarke:** _good but what am i supposed to do with it_

 

**Lexa:** _Not much. I just wanted you to know where you’re going._

 

Then, she sends her the picture of a car and a driver standing next to it. 

 

**Lexa:** _I believe this is what you should be seeing in two to five minutes, depending on where you are right now._

 

Clarke takes four minutes to respond, so Lexa guesses she barely left Dr. Gilbert’s office when she texted her.

 

**Clarke:** _am i being kidnapped?_

 

**Clarke:** _is this your way of saying you’re kicking me out?_

 

**Lexa:** _Clarke. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a surprise. A pleasant one._  

 

**Clarke:** _oooooh_

 

**Clarke:** _i love this already_

 

**Clarke:** _does it have anything to do with the fact that liz gave us her professional blessing? ;)_

 

Lexa finds herself smiling at Clarke’s text. It does. A little bit. She did kind of plan this with a certain goal in mind - that’s not something she’s going to deny. There was always a possibility that Dr. Gilbert was going to advise they wait another couple of days, though. But that didn’t really matter. Mostly, she did this to let Clarke take a short break. 

 

Of course she knows Clarke loves their daughter. Both of them fell in love with her long before she was born. Anya is their little miracle, and there’s nothing they’d rather be doing than being her mothers. 

 

But she’s noticed Clarke’s fatigue in the mornings that sometimes lasts well into the day. Her wife is getting exhausted, even with Lexa having been constantly around for the first month. And now that Lexa’s leave is up and she’s coming back to work, Clarke’s going to be doing it on her own. And it’s going to be hard and Lexa’s read enough material and spent enough time on forums to know it could very well be detrimental to her wife’s relationship with  their baby and to _them_. 

 

She shakes herself out of her thoughts and types up a reply. 

 

**Lexa:** _It has everything to do with us, baby._

 

**Clarke:** _i love it when you call me that._

 

**Lexa:** _There will be plenty of what you love when you get here :)_

 

// 

 

She’s been agonizing over her greeting pose for two weeks, and she still hasn’t figured out which one would work best. Splaying out on the bed with a rose between her teeth seems overdone. Simply sitting on a couch doesn’t seem enough. Clarke’s already in the hotel, as Lexa’s been notified by the driver, and she still hasn’t figured out how to greet her. By now, Clarke’s already entered the elevator and about to follow the path of rose petals to the room - cheesy, she knows, but Clarke seems to like that kind of romancing. 

 

(She kind of likes doing it, too. A little bit.) 

 

Sighing, she stands up and walks to the window, where one of the vases full of roses is standing. It’s a gloomy day outside. She doesn’t mind gloomy, though. In fact, she kind of likes it, because it makes being inside all the more precious. Inside, with Clarke and blankets and hot, heavenly smelling tea. And recently, their kid.

 

She’s so lost in thoughts and memories she misses Clarke’s entrance. In her defense, even her freakishly good hearing isn’t able to pick up on that - Clarke walks in so quietly, as if afraid of scaring the sight before her away. 

 

“Whoa.” Clarke’s voice is as quiet as her steps, and Lexa’s breath catches in her throat when she turns, because -- Clarke’s expression is nothing short of reverent. 

 

_How has it been nine whole years when it feels like they just fell in love?_  

 

“Hey.” Lexa doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands, but, just like always, Clarke’s already there to take them in hers and squeeze. 

 

“You and your candles,” Clarke half-breathes, half-sobs into her lips, and Lexa’s suddenly hit with the answer to her previous question. Nine years, all of them, good and bad, wrapped in one phrase, uttered with love both familiar and new. There’s no one who knows her better than the woman in her arms; sometimes, not even herself. There’s no one who loves Clarke as unconditionally as her. There’s no one -- there’s no one but them, and little Anya is a part of them, too, and together, they make one. 

 

All of that races through Lexa’s head, overwhelming her in the best of ways as she melts into Clarke’s embrace. Feels hot, gentle hands on her cheeks and neck and waist. Tastes soft, pliant lips and swallows her small moans. 

 

Oh, how she missed her moans. 

 

“I love you,” Clarke whispers to her when they break apart for air, and she murmurs it back. It got so heavy so fast, but Lexa finds she doesn’t mind. It’s Clarke. With Clarke, everything is always rich with emotions and feelings she still doesn’t quite know how to handle sometimes, but she doesn’t want it any other way. 

 

“I’m sorry we’re -- I know you deserve more than a hotel room,” she whispers to Clarke. “Raven offered to take Anya to her house, but it’s not properly baby-proofed, and it’s too early for Anya to be traveling in a car with someone who’s not us, and--” 

 

“Lexa.” Her name is said with fond laughter. “This is perfect. Of course Anya should be at home for now. You didn’t -- this, all of this is not necessary, but it’s very appreciated.” Clarke gives her another kiss, this time quick, to the corner of her lips. “I love you. So much. I’m gonna say that a lot tonight, so bear with me. My hormones are still a mess.” 

 

Lexa nods. Presses her nose to the side of Clarke’s neck and inhales her, sweet lotion and a tang of fresh sweat underneath. Then, Clarke’s words register in her brain, fully, and she lifts her head to look in the adoring blue again. “Oh, about -- that. Hormones and everything. I just -- I want you to know that we’ll do whatever you want to do. It doesn’t have to be… something you don’t want to do,” she finishes lamely, and struggles not to drop her gaze to the floor. Clarke’s gentle fingers under her chin help, admittedly. 

 

“How is it that you know exactly what to say?” Her wife unknowingly voices a variation of Lexa’s earlier thought. Truth be told, she doesn’t _always_ know that. That’s Clarke’s speciality. She -- she just learned some of Clarke’s tells. And right now, holding her in her arms, she can feel the nervous exhaustion of the day buzzing under her skin. 

 

She smiles and shrugs. “One of my many talents.” 

 

“Oh, I know all about your talents,” Clarke teases, leaning in to leave another quick peck on her waiting lips. “i say we start with that famous backrub.” 

 

// 

 

Clarke falls asleep halfway through it. Lexa doesn’t have any objections. 

 

Her wife’s head is on her chest, and she’s burrowing further into her in her sleep. Lexa doesn’t stop drawing soothing circles on the bare skin of her back. Clarke told her once it made her see good dreams. 

 

She drifts off into her memories as her hands continue their pleasant task. She remembers laying in a hotel room together with Clarke on the first night of their honeymoon, drunk on their love for each other. Clarke couldn’t keep her hands still, even when she fell asleep. Lexa stayed up the whole night, simply watching her, bathed in the foreign moonlight. In the morning, they went to the beach and almost got banned from it because apparently being newlyweds isn’t a good enough excuse for public sex. 

 

(It’s totally Clarke’s fault they got caught in the first place, but Lexa doesn’t tell her that because frankly she doesn’t care. To this day, it’s, weirdly enough, one of her most cherished memories, because Clarke’s laughter was as loud and carefree as it was in high school as they ran away, and all she wanted to do was record that sound and play it on repeat.) 

 

She also remembers laying in another hotel room, alone and angry and hurt. Remembers a knock; remembers throwing the door open and staring at Clarke, blonde hair disheveled and damp and cheeks wet. 

 

“Don’t you ever,” that Clarke growls in Lexa’s mind, just like on the night it happened, “ don’t you fucking ever turn your phone off, Lexa. No matter what happens, you never turn that fucking thing off, you hear me?!” 

 

She remembers Clarke breaking down, and she remembers her own mumbled apologies as she lead her inside. Remembers Clarke’s lips, cold and harsh, claiming her own. Remembers her muttering she only needs her, and -- sometimes, make-up sex really is the best sex ever, even tainted with leftover jealousy. 

 

(But she also remembers Clarke’s soft gaze on her face as they fell asleep, and she remembers quietly kissing her knuckles in a silent promise to always talk to her first.)

 

Nine years. Every day with her is a gift, and Lexa cherishes each and every single one. They are there, in her head, carefully collected and filed away. Her most prized possession. 

 

Clarke stirs in her arms, and before she can shush her back to sleep, hazy blue eyes meet hers. “Hey,” she mumbles. “Did I fall asleep?” 

 

Lexa smiles down at her. “For a little while.” 

 

“Ugh,” Clarke stretches, looking like a big, lazy cat, and throws a glance out the window. “God, it’s already dark. I’m so sorry,” she gives Lexa a guilty look. “You had this whole thing planned and--” 

 

“Shh,” Lexa coos. Trails one finger down Clarke’s cheek and smiles when she visibly relaxes under her touch. “This whole thing is for you. If you want to sleep, we sleep.” She entwines their fingers together then, tugging Clarke’s hand up and leaving a kiss on her knuckles before pressing it to her cheek. “Happy when you’re happy, remember?” 

 

“That’s not how relationships work,” Clarke scoffs, but there’s a pretty pink blush spilling across her face as Lexa nuzzles her nose with her own. 

 

“That’s how ours does,” she whispers. “Now go back to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast and go pick Anya up, and then we’ll go to the park.” 

 

Clarke looks like she wants to argue, but a battle she’s having with her fatigue is clearly a losing one. “Only if you wake me with a kiss.” 

 

“Of course, Sleeping Beauty.” 

 

“Mhm,” Clarke sighs, nuzzling under Lexa’s jaw and giving her a small nip. “There might be more than a kiss in it for you, Charming.” 

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s a different fairy tale.” 

 

“Shut up and rub my back.” 

 

Lexa only smirks.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a small fluffy drabble. i miss snow. i can't wait for it to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've released the first chapter of ssau from clarke's pov. head to my tumblr for more details!
> 
> check out [my website](http://geralehane.com/) for more of my works!
> 
> and follow me on:   
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> 
> enjoy your read!

“It’s freezing out there,” is what Clarke greets her with when she walks into their room, hot sweat trickling down her rapidly cooling body. She knows she needs to change out of these clothes, and fast. “Are you sure it’s safe to be running in this weather?” 

Lexa can’t resist rolling her eyes. “I don’t remember my mother, Clarke, but I’m sure you sound like her.” 

“Do not,” Clarke stubbornly states. She’s still giving Lexa a look that can only be described as half-concerned, half-judgmental. And maybe she’d take her seriously if she didn’t look so adorably hilarious bundled up in Lexa’s thick comforter, blue eyes still sleepy and soft. 

She doesn’t even try to suppress the urge to lean down and peck pink, pouting lips, chuckling when Clarke scoots away, hiding her face behind the blanket. “Lexa,” she grumbles. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, it’s gross.” 

“I don’t care,” Lexa tells her, because it’s true. She doesn’t care about Clarke’s morning breath. She just wants to kiss her. But her girlfriend’s having none of it, so she sighs and stands back. “Can I at least get a hug?” 

“Don’t be creepy.” 

“My little weirdo.” She turns to head for the bathroom to take a quick shower when Clarke calls for her, stopping her in her tracks. 

“Lexa, I’m serious. It’s cold and slippery, a-and still dark. You could easily fall, or catch a cold, or -- someone could rob you. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame them.” When Lexa simply blinks at her, she sighs and sits up, tugging the comforter up with her. _She gets cold so easily_ , Lexa thinks with a tender smile. “Can’t you -- use a treadmill or something?” 

A lightbulb goes off in her head before she curses at herself under her breath. Of course Clarke would be worried. “I like running outside,” she says, and something tugs at her chest when Clarke’s face falls. “I’ve been running in winter for three years now,” she tries to explain, then. 

Clarke still looks upset. It’s so brief - so subtle she would’ve missed it a year, half a year ago. “Okay,” she says, putting on a smile that doesn’t quite reaches her eyes. Lexa picks up on that, too. “Now get your cute butt in the shower. You still owe me several orgasms.” 

“I thought you needed to brush your teeth first.” 

“Don’t test me, Woods.” 

//

Lexa doesn’t go running the next morning. Not because she doesn’t want to. She simply can’t. The blizzard that was promised a week ago is late, but it still came, and even Lexa, with all of her training, isn’t insane enough to test the forces of nature. 

And even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to do so, because Clarke is sleepily glaring at her when she tries to rise from the bed to make herself some hot tea. “No,” she huffs quietly, clumsily grasping at Lexa’s arms and tugging her back into bed. Back to her. “Day off. Sleep.” 

Lexa wants to point out that technically, it’s her day off every day since she’s back home for winter break, but she doubts Clarke would listen in her half-dozing state. “I’m not going anywhere,” she tries to explain, chuckling. “I just wanted some tea.” She knows she won’t be able to go back to sleep again, so she figures there’s no use in lounging around when she could be making breakfast for her and Clarke. 

But Clarke’s adamant in her stubbornness. “Later,” she husks, and her lips are warm where they land on Lexa’s neck. “Stay with me.” 

And, since she can’t possibly fathom a reason why she would ever say no to that, she does. 

//

It doesn’t look like it’ll stop snowing anytime soon. But right now, with Clarke looking up at her with hooded eyes and her tongue doing things that are so, so bad but oh so good, Lexa finds she doesn’t care if it rains acid outside. 

Clarke’s playing her; fine-tuning her, and she won’t rest until Lexa sounds just like she wants her to. Her tongue circles Lexa’s clit, teasingly, almost not enough, not quite there, and Lexa whines; her fingers curl inside her, deep and slow and purposeful, and Lexa keens; and then, her tongue is flat and pressing and she’s gentle but urgent inside her and Lexa’s falling apart with a moan of Clarke’s name on her lips. Clarke laps her up. Drops lazy kisses as she rises, slowly. Leaves a playful bite on her collarbone, and Lexa’s too drained to react. 

“I love snowy days,” Clarke lets her know in a smug whisper that’s somehow tender at the same time, and when she lets her taste herself on her mouth, Lexa can’t do much but moan again, soft and pliant under Clarke’s gentle hands. It took Clarke a while to get this side of Lexa out of her. Now that she has, she can’t get enough, it seems. 

When Lexa stretches and tries to tug Clarke up so she sits in her lap, the girl only pulls away with a smirk. “I’m not done,” she says before pressing a hand against her chest and guiding her to lay back on the couch. Lexa glances outside, only to see snow falling, and falling, and falling, and then, she’s falling with it, mouth open in a silent scream as Clarke eases two of her fingers inside, starting her up all over again. 

// 

Hot chocolate tastes so much better on Clarke’s lips. It’s basically law by this point, Lexa thinks and leans in again, teasingly flicking her tongue against Clarke’s smile. 

“You could just make another one for yourself, you know,” she points out, and her blue eyes are alight with amusement. 

“Too much sugar,” Lexa tells her, and leans in to kiss her again, only this time, she doesn’t stop. 

By the time Clarke stops screaming her head off, her hot chocolate is cold and unsatisfying, and Lexa makes her a new one while she’s pressed up against her back, skin to skin, and the tiny kisses she peppers Lexa’s neck and shoulders with are sweeter than any overhyped seasonal drink. 

//

“Read to me,” Clarke says, quietly, when they sit in front of TV. Her mug is steaming, and the sips she takes are tentative and measured. Lexa’s not sure, but she thinks her smile grows just a little sad. But she doesn’t question it. She doesn’t ask what Clarke wants her to read, either. 

She makes sure her journey to the bookshelf and back is quick, and when she comes back, a book and a blanket in hand, Clarke leaves a slow, grateful kiss on her lips before letting her lie down on the couch and settling on top of her, her head to her chest.

Lexa inhales her familiar scent and lets her hand draw lazy invisible circles on her back while holding the book with her other one. “ _It is a truth universally acknowledged..._ ” she starts, and Clarke’s quiet chuckle makes something in her chest pang and pleasantly ache. 

// 

The snowstorm lasts the entire night. Lexa knows, because she doesn’t sleep that night, and neither does Clarke. 

“More,” Clarke begs under her, and she eagerly complies with a quiet groan of her own, adding a third finger. Clarke’s so drenched it gets swallowed up without any struggle. She’s so wonderfully slick. Inside, she’s silk and velvet. Warm, impossibly warm, almost hot, and Lexa sucks on her pulsepoint to stop herself from letting out a pitiful whimper. Clarke, however, doesn’t have such reservations. 

“God, Lexa!” She screams, and her nails down Lexa’s back are the most deliciously painful thing she’s ever experienced. 

Clarke comes with her eyes wide and staring into Lexa’s, and it only takes Lexa several seconds of riding Clarke’s thigh to join her. 

It finally stops snowing around morning. 

// 

“Lex,” Clarke’s groan is grumpy as she pokes her side. “Your alarm.” The words are mumbled into Lexa’s neck, and she has trouble deciphering them. It takes her a moment to realize what she’s talking about. 

Her phone is going off on her nightstand, and she grabs at it, blindly, missing it the first few times. When it’s finally in her hand, she hurries to turn the alarm off, sighing with relief when there’s no more annoyingly shrill beeping. 

Usually, she’s up before her alarm goes off, and she turns it off so Clarke never even hears it. But, usually, she’s not as - quite literally - fucked out as she is right now. It might be hard to believe, and yet -- Clarke’s really outdone herself last night. And Lexa. 

She chuckles. Settles back into bed and smiles when Clarke clings back to her. “I wasn’t going to jog today anyway, you know,” she rasps. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarke replies, but Lexa feels her smile against her neck. 

“Of course you don’t,” she says, and kisses the top of her head before slowly drifting off to sleep. 

She knew winter was her favorite season for a reason. 


	6. deleted scene: anya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya comes to visit Lexa during the last week of winter break. (this is something that obviously didn't happen in the main fic. just a small what if chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out [my tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com) for a link to my other works! 
> 
> enjoy your read!

 

Anya drops by one frosty Monday morning, unannounced and with snow covering her shoulders. Lexa is normally up at that time, but today of all days she planned on sleeping in. The parents were gone for a week, and Clarke and her stayed up all night celebrating. Clarke fell asleep around sunrise, and Lexa watched her sleep for a little while before drifting off herself, with Clarke warm and secure in her arms. It's a very promising Monday morning. Just the two of them warm under heavy covers with snow falling outside.

 

Lexa knows it's snowing because loud knocking at the door wakes her up. She barely manages to open her eyes when the knocking comes again, this time louder and more impatient. Any other time, she would have ignored it. But Clarke is still sleeping, and she looks so comfortable Lexa doesn't want her to be woken up. She carefully disentangles herself from Clarke's embrace; when her step sister stirs, she quickly thrusts her pillow into her arms and chuckles when she burrows into it with a small sleepy sigh.

 

She tugs a shirt on and pads down the stairs, feet bare against the cold floor.

 

“Hey, kid,” a familiar gruff voice says when Lexa asks who it is. “Remember me?” as if Lexa could forget. She doesn't forget anything. And even if she did, Anya is not the type of person to be easily forgotten.

 

She's missed her, Lexa realizes when she throws the door open and squints at her tall figure. She's blonde and smirking and she looks exactly the same she did two years ago, right down to her coat and hat. Her smirk still makes her eyes twinkle with amusement, and her voice is still affectionately gruff when she talks to her. Anya brings a gust of wind with her, the one that's scaldingly cold, and Lexa shivers.

 

“Looking good,” Anya whistles lowly when her eyes travel up and down Lexa's legs. “I am feeling severely overdressed.”

 

It's like she's never even left.

 

“Shut up,” Lexa grumbles, perfectly aware of the faint blush covering her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “It's early. You woke me up.” She takes a step back, and Anya takes it as an invitation to step inside. It's snowing prettily, and Lexa allows herself to be mesmerized for a second before closing the door. “You still knock really loudly.”

 

Anya snorts. “Your house is gigantic,” she says. “The only knocking that works is the loud one.” She looks down at Lexa's outfit again, and her smirk grows wider. “Not that I'm complaining. Dig the boxers, by the way.”

 

Lexa opens her mouth to reply, but she is cut short by another voice joining them.

 

“Lexa?” Clarke is standing at the top of the stairs, looking slightly disheveled and entirely unamused. “Who's that?”

 

Lexa clears her suddenly dry throat. “Um.” She glances at Anya who is looking between her and the barely clothed blonde. “This is Anya.”

 

Clarke shifts on her feet and tightens her robe around herself. “Oh. I'm Clarke.”

 

//

 

It could be worse. But it also could be better. Contrary to Lexa's prediction, Clarke and Anya don't clash. They simply don't interact enough for them to do so. But Anya is back for a week, so Lexa reasons they have plenty of time to kill each other.

 

That time comes sooner than later. That same evening, to be exact.

 

Lexa doesn't even understand what happens at first. She's just cutting up vegetables and telling Anya all about her life while her sister was away. College plans, fencing tournament, Indra, her grades – everything is pouring out of her at once and she's not holding it back. Anya is the same. She's talking about Europe and Vietnam and China and Lexa can't get enough. She's missed Anya. She hasn't seen her for a year and a half. Hasn't really talked to her, properly, either. That's the thing about Anya, though – they can go without talking to each other for years, and when they do, it's like they haven't been apart at all.

 

She's so immersed in the conversation she practically jumps when she feels a hand on the small of her back. Clarke's expression is hurt when she turns to face her, and she doesn't really try to hide it.

 

“Oh hey Clarke,” Anya says from where she's standing next to Lexa, wearing an identical apron and idly bumping into her hip from time to time. “I was wondering where'd you go.”

 

“I was upstairs,” Clarke replies, and Lexa swallows at her voice. It doesn't sound good for her. “I told you guys, but I guess you were kinda busy.”

 

Anya's smile is sheepish. “Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry for hoarding Lexa like that, but it's just,” she reaches out and ruffles Lexa's hair affectionately. Lexa huffs, which makes the ruffling happen again. “I haven't seen the kid in a year. Missed her. I'm sure you get how it is.”

 

Anya's arm around her shoulders is suddenly heavy. Clarke's disbelieving smirk is heavy, too. “Oh,” she says slowly. “Yeah. I do get how it is.” One last glance between the two of them, and she's gone.

 

She gets how it is? What does she mean by that? Surely she can't think Anya and her-

 

She better go and check on her before Clarke jumps to any conclusions. If she hasn't already.

 

“I'm gonna-”

 

“Yeah, kid. Sure.” Anya's gaze is sharp and careful. “Go check on your new sis.” The word burns, but Lexa swallows it down and sets the apron on the kitchen island, hurrying after Clarke. She'll deal with Anya later.

 

For some reason, she has a hunch Anya will be much easier to deal with.

 

//

 

She's right.

 

“Clarke,” she says softly, knocking at her door. Nothing. She tries again. “Can we talk, please?” Her voice lacks annoyance. She just wants everything to be normal. Quiet. She doesn't really understand what happened downstairs, but she wants to. And she needs Clarke to help her understand.

 

The door opens just a crack, and Lexa sighs, It's with a small smile, though, because while Clarke looks upset and Lexa hates it, she also looks rather adorable. Grumpy and looking at her with narrow eyes.

 

“I'd prefer if we talked inside,” Lexa tells her.

 

“There's a lot of things I'd prefer,” Clarke fires back. She still opens the door, letting Lexa in and plopping down on her bed, lips pressed together. Her frown looks angry. Lexa thinks if it would be a bad idea to kiss her right now. Probably.

 

“So? You wanted to talk.” Clarke is determined not to make it easy for her. _What else is new,_ Lexa thinks.

 

She clears her throat. “Yes,” she says. “I don't – what exactly just happened?” She knows it's the wrong thing to say when Clarke's frown deepens, but she doesn't have anything else to give her.

 

“You don't get it, do you?”

 

“No. I don't.” Lexa mulls it over. “I'm sorry,” she offers next, because she is. She's sorry she doesn't get most things. She never wished she could, not really. Until Clarke.

 

Clarke, who surprises her yet again by sighing and shaking her head. She deflates, suddenly, looking small on her huge bed, and Lexa sits next to her, carefully, too unsure to touch her, but wishing desperately to be able to do something. Anything. “Oh, Lexa,” Clarke sighs again. “I'm just... I'm upset with you.”

 

“I gathered,” Lexa replies. Her hand moves closer to Clarke's. She doesn't cover it with her own, too afraid of Clarke recoiling.

 

“Touche,” Clarke says, dryly. “Do you want to know why or not?” she waits until Lexa nods, eager and serious. “I'm – fuck, this is really hard for me,” she admits.

 

Lexa risks it and takes her hand, smoothing her thumb over the back. “It's okay,” she says. “Whatever it is, I will listen. I don't...” this is really hard for both of them, she realizes. “I don't want you to be upset.” She thinks she finally says the right thing, because Clarke's face brightens and her hand squeezes Lexa, once, gently.

 

“Okay.” the blonde takes a deep breath. “I guess I'm jealous. That's why I'm upset with you. Because Anya is all over you and you are all over her and it's like – I suddenly don't exist.”

 

Lexa blinks. “But she's my sister.”

 

Clarke smirks. It's wry. “So am I.”

 

She tries to stay reasonable. Level-headed. But Clarke's smirk is still there, and it's suddenly taunting. There's something hot and heavy and unpleasant burning through her chest, and she yanks her hand out of Clarke's hold, springing to her feet. She misses the way blue eyes widen in panic.

 

"So you - you think I get off on fucking my step siblings? Telling them to be quiet while I fuck them because ‘mommy and daddy’ are home?" She doesn't know where this came from. This anger. It's out of line and she knows this, but she can't stop. Clarke cringes at that, and Lexa nods. "Exactly.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“You implied that.”

 

“Yeah? When did you get so good at reading between the lines?” It's a low blow. Those have been traded a lot in the last couple of minutes. Lexa sets her jaw, and Clarke draws back, realization clear on her face. “Lexa, I...”

 

“No,” she interrupts her. “You're right. I'm bad at this. So I'm in the wrong.”

 

“Lexa, I don't-” She doesn't hear the rest of her sentence when she slams the door on her way out.

 

How did it even come to this?

 

//

 

Anya is quietly studying her, and Lexa doesn't appreciate it. She doesn't want to get into another fight, either, so she mumbles something about a headache and hides in her room for the rest of the evening.

 

As usual, Clarke comes by at night. Her knocking is quiet, just like her voice.

 

“I have fruit,” she says. As if Lexa won't open the door if she doesn't bribe her with something. Admittedly, the promise of a snack does make her decision easier.  

 

“I'm sorry for storming out,” Lexa says when Clarke places the bowl full of cut up fruit on her bedside table and sits in her chair. “I didn't want to say something I would regret.” It's the truth, at least partially. She was hurt and angry, but she also didn't want it to escalate into something huge. More than it already did.

 

Clarke nods. “I'm sorry, too. For being stupid.”

 

“You're not stupid.” The defense is immediate and sure, and Clarke smiles. Her fingers twitch in her lap, and Lexa hopes she's reading the situation right when she reaches out and tentatively brushes them with hers. When Clarke entwines them with a relieved sigh, she knows she is.

 

“Thanks,” she says. Lexa's not sure if she means the hand-holding or her comment, but she nods anyway. “I'm sorry for being unreasonable, then. I shouldn't have assumed anything about your relationship with Anya. You guys are close and she was there for you when you were a kid and... I guess I'm just – seeing you open up like that, so easily, to another person... I know it's selfish and childish, but it made me jealous.” Clarke takes a deep,shuddering breath when Lexa tugs on her hand, urging her to join her on the bed instead of a chair. She does, and Lexa scoots over to give her some room. They sit facing each other, and Lexa is silent for a moment, letting Clarke's words sink in. Jealous. Of Anya as a person. Something clicks, and it's clear.

 

“Clarke,” she takes both of her hands, and the blonde lets her. “I'm an idiot.”

 

“Don't say that.”

 

“No, let me finish,” Lexa says, impatient. “I'm an idiot. I was so excited about Anya being here I practically ignored you. That's not okay. I shouldn't have done that.” She understands now. Clarke wasn't upset because she thought Lexa would cheat on her with her previous stepsister. She was upset because Lexa, someone who claims to love her, completely sidelined her for someone else. Does it really matter if it's platonic? Probably not. Lexa's almost sure it doesn't matter. “I get where you're coming from.”

 

"Do you? I'm not being sarcastic, I'm just... What are we doing, Lexa?" Clarke asks, still visibly upset. "We fuck, we fall asleep together, we make each other breakfast…" At Lexa’s raised eyebrow, she huffs. "Fine, you make me breakfast. I don’t… I can’t understand where is the line. What does all of this mean?" _Am I the only one for you_ , she reads in blue eyes. Clarke's not sure if everything they do – aside from sex – is reserved only for her. So that's what it's all about. Here it is, Lexa thinks. The talk, long overdue and eagerly dreaded.

 

"I love you," she says simply, sliding her hand down Clarke’s arm and lacing their fingers. Clarke’s gaze softens.

 

"I love you, too. But-"

 

"Do you want me to explicitly state we’re dating?" Lexa asks, amused. Her step sister huffs and pushes her shoulder, but Lexa bounces back, entwining her arms around the blonde’s waist.

 

"You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?"

 

Lexa gives her a slow, charming smile. "Of course I do. Main reason you’re in love with me."

 

Clarke’s breath hitches in her throat, and Lexa realizes, with a startling clarity, that this is the first time either of them put it this way. In love. Not an ‘I love you’, three words that are said constantly by mothers and friends and fathers and sisters. The wording gives this warm, huge feeling in her chest substance. It makes it real and all there scary, and she tries not to tighten her arms around Clarke when she thinks how scary it must be for her, too.

 

But Clarke exhales and nuzzles the hollow of her neck, and Lexa’s no longer afraid of pressing her close.

 

 _I’m in love with her,_ she thinks, and the knowledge makes her heart full.

 

Of course, Clarke has to lighten the moment _somehow,_ still. "No," she says, replying to Lexa’s previous statement. "Those are." And she tugs Lexa’s hand up, proudly demonstrating Lexa’s own fingers to her and waggling her eyebrows. She laughs.

 

"Great. My girlfriend is a dork."

 

Her step sister fakes indignation. “At least I’m not the calligraphy nerd, _nerd.”_ She doesn’t recoil at the word ‘girlfriend’, and her blue eyes shine as she gazes at Lexa with adoration clear in them, so Lexa kisses her.

 

Clarke mumbles another affectionate ‘nerd’ before they fall on the bed.

 

//

 

The rest of Anya's stay is smooth. Lexa tries to include Clarke as much as possible, and it's as awkward as one would imagine, so both Anya and Clarke take it in their hands. They get along surprisingly well, considering how little they have in common. Lexa is pretty much the only thing they share, but that seems to be enough for both of them. Days are spent cooking and watching movies while snowed in, and Clarke listening to Anya telling stories about Lexa's childhood with rapt attention. Lexa's never been more embarrassed in her entire life.

 

Of course, the sympathy sex more than makes up for it. Clarke is also so charmed by baby Lexa stories she insists on cuddling her any chance she gets. Lexa's not complaining.

 

“I can't believe you never told me about that time you fell off a horse,” Clarke chides her as they lay in her bed after Anya retreats to the guestroom. “Did you really stay silent the entire time?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Lexa, you broke your arm.”

 

“I know.” She shifts, bringing Clarke closer to her and smiling when she feels the blonde purr against her neck. “It hurt.”

 

Clarke nuzzles her arm, right where the crack had been. “Anything else I should know about you, miss secret badass?”

 

“I'm sure Anya will be more than willing to share.”

 

Clarke's blue eyes are alight with laughter. “I'm sure,” she says. “I'm so glad your sister decided to visit. I really like her.” Of course she does.

 

Their last days together, just the three of them, reach their logical end, and Lexa volunteers to drive Anya to the airport. Clarke volunteers to come with until she learns what time they have to be up at, and Anya laughs at her apologetic glance.

 

“It's cool, Clarke,” she says. “We'll meet again soon. This one is graduating this year – not something I can miss.” her wink makes Lexa's chest feel warm, and that warmth only grows when Clarke gives Anya a giant hug before going to bed.

 

“I'm so glad you came by,” she tells Lexa's sister. “Please try not to kill anyone, I don't want next time we see each other to be in prison.”

 

“No promises,” Anya smirks, and with that, Clarke goes to bed. Lexa opted for staying up till it was time to drive to the airport – no sense in going to sleep for an hour. She'll only wake up groggy and tired, and it will be unsafe for her to drive. Anya spends that hour telling Lexa about her plans. England first, then Bangladesh – one of the magazines she works for is sending her there for an assignment. Then, she'll see. Lexa watches her talk with her hands rapidly, and thinks about doing the same – not talking, but traveling. Seeing the world and visiting all the countries Anya sends her postcards from. She remembers Clarke saying she wanted to travel the whole world once. What if they do that together?

 

Is it too early to be building plans for their future together? Do they have one?

 

Anya's hug is strong and warm when it's time for her to go through the gates.

 

“Bye, kid,” she whispers, and Lexa thinks her own voice will shake just as much as Anya's if she speaks, so she doesn't. Anya doesn't give her a choice, however. “And, Lexa... Be careful. With Clarke.”

 

She distances herself from her sister at that, blinking. “Clarke's good,” she says. “I don't have to be careful with her.”

 

“Not what I meant,” Anya replies. When Lexa continues to blink, she rolls her eyes. "You couldn’t have been more obvious if you fucked in front of me on a coffee table."

 

Lexa chokes on air, and Anya's hearty slaps on her back don't really help. “I... What?”

 

“Really should have talked about it earlier,” Anya grumbles when a booming voice announces she has to hurry if she wants to make it to her flight. “Look. You're sleeping together. Great. She's hot and you're not related and I don't judge. But others might. You have to learn to be more discreet about it, kid. Your father...” she practically growls before she catches herself. “He's not gonna be happy about it.”

 

Lexa swallows. “I'm not just sleeping with her.” she hopes it makes sense, or, at least the sense she wants it to make. Anya's eyes widen and then soften, and she knows she succeeded.

 

“Oh, Lexa,” she sighs. “Well. She's a great girl. Then, be careful, both of you. Okay?”

 

Lexa's answer is another hug, tight and desperate. She feels Anya shake her head and pull her in closer, muttering something affectionately under her breath, but all she can focus on is people hurrying to board the plane and leave this place. Leave this country, even. The continent. Leave and never come back. She watches and thinks and her heart pounds in her chest, fast and scared.

 

“I'll call you, kid. More often. I promise.” Anya grabs her bag. “I really gotta go. Lexa...” she goes to say something, but stops at the last second and sighs. “Take care. I'll miss you.”

 

Lexa stands there after Anya leaves and she can no longer see her. “I'll miss you, too,” she says.

 

Her drive home is short, and it's snowing again when she enters her house, brushing her clothes off and shivering. Her hands are cold, but she doesn't realize it until she climbs into bed next to Clarke.

 

Clarke squeals and scoots away from her sleepily when she tries to hold her. “Cold,” she mumbles indignantly. “Hands. Cold.”

 

“I'm sorry,” she offers, rubbing her hands together. Her feet must be cold, as well, so she rolls further away from Clarke, trying to warm herself up.

 

“Mmm,” Clarke accepts, her eyes closed the entire time. She gets closer to Lexa again, instinctively, and Lexa can't help but be awed that Clarke's instinct is to lean into her, even knowing it would be uncomfortable. “Don't touch skin,” she mumbles, burrowing herself in her arms.

 

Lexa melts. If only her hands and feet got the memo.

 

“Anya?” Clarke asks, already falling back asleep. She's rubbing her nose against Lexa's cold neck, and it feels warm. Her lips are warm, too.

 

“On her way to London.” She puts her hands on Clarke's back, tentatively, careful to keep them over her tank top. The blonde sighs and relaxes into her touch, and Lexa takes it as a sign to hold her tighter. “She mentioned something that I think we should talk about.”

 

“She knows we fucking, doesn't she,” Clarke yawns. Lexa almost jumps to her feet, but she whines and grabs her to keep her still, so she obeys.

 

“How did you-”

 

“Was obvious. Sleep. Talk later.” It could be due to Clarke being half-asleep, but she doesn't seem to be concerned at all. Lexa doesn't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

 

But Clarke's hold on her tightens and her breathing is even and warm against her neck, so she surrenders. Talk later. She can live with that.

  
For now, they sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out [my tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com) for a link to my other works! 
> 
> enjoy your read!

**Author's Note:**

> visit [my tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com) to find out how to support me and my works and just to chat i'm always up for a chat really


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